


Rehab Alone Cannot a Life Mend

by Azure_K_Mello



Series: Blunt Force Trauma [2]
Category: Fantastic Four, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action Figures, Family, Friendship, Gen, High School, Hurt Peter Parker, Legal Drama, Memes, Past Torture, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter is a gen z to a t, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Social Media, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 16:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 80,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_K_Mello/pseuds/Azure_K_Mello
Summary: A look at life after Peter was kidnapped and tortured by SHIELD. From rehab to school and friends to acquaintances, Peter has to figure out his new life with a bad leg and a little less anonymity. But maybe, in some respects, that’s not so bad. And hey, if nothing else, at least he gets a badass onesie.This covers a legal trial, the end of a brutal summer, posing for action figures, acquiring a dog and healing from a hell that never should have happened.





	Rehab Alone Cannot a Life Mend

**Author's Note:**

> So, hey, this wasn't supposed to be a series. Now it is. I love it. You might not. A lot of it is about the banality of pain and healing but also that love matters in all aspects of a life. I hope you like it.

May went back to work after a month once he was doing well, stable, healing and not in need of constant attention. She came back every night. Peter felt badly because it was a long commute. And he heard May talking to Hank saying, “It’s so expensive, I can’t even think of a way to pay you back.”

“May, our course offerings are so extensive we have many classes that end up being three students with a teacher. We’re year round. We have horses and giant camping trips. We have some students from when they’re nine to when they’re eighteen. We pay for the parts of their college that they can’t cover with scholarships and financial aid. As a school, we would cost at least eighty grand a year and then we pay for their college. Yes, Peter’s care is expensive, yes you’re both long-term guests. But he’s a kid with weird genes. We’re the people who help kids with weird genes. This place is for him and, as far as we’re concerned, you’re one of us now. I can chant ‘one of us’ at you if it would make you feel better.”

That had made Peter smile in his drugged out state. Ned visited, hanging out with Peter and Bobby. Peter could tell he was over the moon about meeting the X-Men but Ned kept a straight face. Bobby introduced himself as Iceman and they stuck to that. Three weeks after surgery his head had cleared up enough to do all his work but only in bursts. Bobby was right, having teachers so close at hand and having so much personal attention made it so that he got through weeks and weeks’ work in two. He kept his mask on, even with the teachers, he still wanted a secret identity, none of them pushed him on it. That made him feel safe. Impressive figures like Scott Summers were helping him. Scott would sit cross-legged on his bed, in his socks, eating chips going over his geometry lessons with him. It felt good, although having Remy LeBeau sitting on his bed doing his health and sex-ed classes and proctoring his tests felt weird. He already knew that subject and said, “May is a nurse, who really doesn’t want a grandkid I’m not ready to parent or for me to get VD. I know this.” Logan brought ribs and fries to help him with his American history studies. It was nice. 

The metal torture device came off seven weeks after surgery and he spent ages getting back to walking normally and building up all the muscles that had atrophied. That was frustrating. He couldn’t move right and his flips were all wrong. He couldn’t land right. He fell all the damn time and he ached. It was so infuriating that he actually let out a scream, landing wrong. 

“Honey, are you okay?” asked May. It was early Saturday morning, the sun was peeking through the windows, thin daylight helping the lights. Peter had already been going an hour having eaten four Pop-Tarts. 

He sighed, “It didn’t hurt; it aches. I’m fine but I can’t move like me. I can’t move like me and that… sucks.”

“Hey,” said Hank, “you’ll get there.”

“But I was there. I miss it, and I thought I would… do you think he was right? Mr. Stark, in that video, he said I might never be able to be me again.”

He was in one of the gyms with only Hank and May. Hank was evaluating his gait and mobility range. May said, “Honey, you are you.”

“No, I’m not,” said Peter, almost shouting “I went from being this half-blind kid who fell of his skateboard all the time and was clumsy to being awesome. And if I cannot move right then I am less than me. And before you tell me to calm down: don’t. I’m allowed to be angry. I was amazing; this is not amazing. I don’t want to be clumsy and weak when I have been extraordinary. I was living my best life, this body won’t do.” He jumped, using his webs to get high. He tried to push off a wall but he didn’t get the distance he was expecting and swung back, slamming into the wall. 

“No,” Hank called up and Peter looked down, staying where he was hanging, holding the web. “No, I don’t think the bastard was right. You are going to be you. You are six days out of the metal torture device. Usually, people are stuck in the metal torture device for at minimum six months: you did it in seven weeks. You are injured, you aren’t functioning on all cylinders, but you will be you again. Maybe you won’t be perfect again, but you will be amazing. I did my best on your leg but it’s not perfect. You will swing, you will be Spider-Man but you might have aches in that leg forever. But, most people take months of rehab, you’ll do it in weeks. Right now, you need to ease up. Come down, have a snack, drink some water.” Peter didn’t, he tried to launch again. He managed to get a little further, making it so he could web to a low beam. Instead of swinging over it so he could sit on it, he slammed into it with his stomach and had to push himself up onto it. He sighed, shaking his head and not swearing. “We need to build up your muscle mass. The reason you’re not getting the height and distance is that your whole body lost the strength from starvation and inactivity. You need to eat snacks. The reason you’re landing wrong is that, while I did everything in my power to make your leg perfect, Captain America broke it and it’s slightly different than it was before. You’re going to have to learn to change how you land. And that sucks. It royally sucks. They were arrested but it doesn’t help you. What helps you is snacks and practice. So, breathe out, take a minute and then come down and have breakfast, maybe a nap.”

He breathed out slowly and then swung off, landing but half wiping out. He breathed out again as he stood. “I’m sorry for raising my voice, May.”

“It’s okay, Peter, I didn’t take it personally,” she said. “I cannot imagine how hard this is. You went through hell and you’re not out of it yet. You’re allowed to be angry. And if I say something stupid, you’re allowed to be angry at me. Just don’t be angry at yourself.”

“It wasn’t stupid, I know you’re trying to help,” said Peter.

“Breakfast and then a nap — you didn’t sleep well enough,” said Hank. “Then lunch, then a swim — a few laps, not just clowning around — then a snack and an episode of Grey’s Anatomy or Star Trek then back here for more practice. Then snack while you watch a movie, text with your friends, mess around in the pool or the library, dinner and an early night. I am your doctor; those are my orders: that’s your day.” 

Peter nodded and put on his mask. Scott and Jean were making French toast and smiled at him. “Hey, Spidey,” said Scott, “how is the swinging?”

“Not good,” said Peter. “I’m working on it.”

“Just keep working,” said Jean. “It’ll come. Practically everyone here got to this house because they weren’t in control of their powers and they weren’t safe to be around. And then they came and they worked, and worked, and worked until they were awesome and in control of themselves. And it sucks.” She laughed, “Believe me: I know it sucks to have your body disobey your mind. But, you just keep working and you’ll be swinging perfectly again.” She handed him a plate with French toast and bacon. “What’s your plan for the day?”

“Next is a nap,” said Hank. 

“That’s good, because it’s unnatural to have a teenager awake at eight on a Saturday,” said Scott. 

“He’s been pushing himself since before six,” said Hank. 

“I can walk again, there is no point in sitting around,” said Peter. They all ate together and little kids came in, different grownups took over cooking. May took a turn at the stove. Peter rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher. “Thank you for breakfast, Jean and Scott.” He kissed May’s cheek. “See you in a few hours.”

“Y’want me to wake you for lunch?” asked May. 

“Yes, please,” he said. He no longer needed May to be able to sleep. He was definitely doing better even if it was baby steps. He climbed under the covers and pulled his Ewok to his chest. When he woke both Hank and May were in the room. He stretched. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Hank smiled. “I gotta talk to you.”

“That’s never good. Did my other kidney die or something? You look worried.”

“I got a subpoena,” said Hank, “for your medical records. But, because of HIPPA — the laws that make your records private — the only way that subpoena is valid is with written assurances that you know about it and do not object. ‘Cause you’re a kid it would actually be Aunt May writing that. But we wanted to know what you want to do.”

“So would you, like, have to testify?” asked Peter.

“Yes,” said Hank. 

“People are going to know that you’re the guy who cured Legacy,” said Peter, “that would be cool: for you to get the credit.”

“I don’t care about Legacy. What do you want to do?”

“What would you say up there on the stand?” asked Peter.

“Well, I would show them the records, go over what happened, the trauma you sustained, your treatment, how your recovery is going, the timeline going forward.”

Peter nodded, “When you get up on that stand… are you going to say I am going to be Spider-Man again?”

“I’m going to tell them the truth: sometime between mid-October to mid-November we’ll see you flying over the streets. By March you should barely remember this. But that your hip might always hurt a little.”

“October?” repeated Peter. “Really? I thought I was doing kind of okay.”

“It’s July, Peter, and if you were anyone else you’d be dead from what they did,” said Hank. “You’re not doing okay: you’re a rock star and you’re crushing it.”

“Is you saying that I’m gonna get better going to be good or bad for their case?” asked Peter.

“Neither,” said Hank. “But your CT scans, X-rays and chart are going to send them all to prison. I have pictures of your insides and I can talk about the fact that you were a teenager in beautiful peak condition and now you have two organs in jars. They’ll go to prison.”

“I’d like you to do it then. But how is May going to sign anything and keep our names out of it?”

“I can sign it just ‘Spider-Man’s Mother,’” said May. “I doubt anyone will object.”

“Okay,” said Peter. “Yes, please help send them to prison, Hank.” 

He spent hours, possibly days’ worth of time, hanging upside down, teaching his blood to flow like it used to and reacclimatizing himself to having his blood flow into his head without getting dizzy. He got a lot of painful massages over the weeks. And when the trials were set to begin, Peter was disappointed to find out CourtTV didn’t exist anymore. The first day of the Avengers’ trial, Hank went early and asked the judge for permission to stream it to him. The judge listened and said, “Under these circumstances, I’ll allow it.” 

Hank was prepared, the prosecution had all of Peter’s records; he was ready. But when Black Widow was asked to enter a plea, she said, “I plead guilty on all charges.” The judge looked surprised.

“This is not the result of a plea deal,” said the judge.

Widow nodded her head, “No, ma’am. I’m just pleading guilty.”

The judge thought about it and asked, “You’re pleading guilty not no contest?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s not that I am conceding the charge without offering a defense, I’m admitting that every charge against me is correct.”

The judge nodded slowly. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Peter whispered at Hank through the screen, “does that mean she doesn’t have to face up to it?” 

Hank put one finger to his lip.

Next, it was Falcon’s turn to hear his charges, slightly different charges but so closely related that they were all being tried together, he nodded as they were read out and said, “I am pleading guilty. I know that the original attack was not captured on film and that I am not in the video that was placed online. But every time Spider-Man said I hurt him and helped kidnap him he was telling the truth.”

The judge said, “I don’t need information, just a plea.”

“Your honor, there’s not gonna be a trial, I thought it was best to be thorough,” he replied. 

After hearing his charges, Mr. Stark said, “I’m guilty as sin. That boy trusted me. I placed him in this situation and, though it was wholly within my power to stop it, I did not. So, as to the charges of contributing to the delinquency of a minor of a child: I lied to his mother, I enabled and him to endanger himself. He has committed no crimes but I have certainly damaged his childhood. As to the charge of endangerment of a child: again, I lied to his mother and I could have saved him. My inaction was willful and I am guilty as sin. So guilty. I shouldn’t go to one of those rich people country club prisons: it’s child abuse, not embezzlement.” 

When it was Captain America’s turn he listened to the charges and said, “Guilty as charged. The world saw what I did, what we all did, we’re all going to hell. I broke a child’s leg and then held him captive under brutal conditions while acting like the good guy. So, I’m pleading guilty on all charges.”

After they all entered guilty pleas, the judge said, “A sentencing hearing will take place three weeks from today. Because of the defendants’ skill sets, experience and funds, they are remanded into custody until sentencing can take place.”

Then it was over and Peter felt stunned but Hank said, “This is winning, kid.”

“But they don’t have to listen to it; they don’t have to face the truth,” said Peter. 

“There’s a sentencing hearing. You can make a statement,” said Hank. 

“I wanted them to have to know about my organ jars.”

“You can talk about your organ jars at the sentencing,” Hank assured him.

Peter nodded, “Okay, okay.” He bit his lip, staving off the angry, hurt, sad tears.

“I know, kid, I know,” said Hank. “Here’s what I need you to do; go to the gym and put on your headphones, put on the Ramones and spend some time swinging and rocking out. Have some fun. Put some weight on your leg, have fun until you’re hurting and want to cry and then there is a gallon of peanut butter cookie dough ice cream hidden behind the Swedish meatballs that was bought specifically for you. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Peter.

“Next week, the S.H.I.E.L.D. representatives are going to be testifying in front of Congress. Fury is going to be grilled, I have been called and they cannot just plead guilty. And that isn’t going to be transmitted from my phone to your tablet: it will be on C-SPAN and PBS. They cannot sweep it under the rug. Your medical scans will be out there.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna go rock out to my rehab mix and toss myself across the gym.”

“Good, Spidey, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Bye, Hank.”

He focused on his music and spent as much time as he could physically take swinging from beam to beam. He missed half his landings. After an hour and ten minutes, he was tired, sore and hungry. He got a heat pack for his leg and one for his shoulder, which hurt from bad landings. He got his ice cream and went up to the library where he worked on Arkham. 

“How is your looney bin?” asked Bobby, dropping down in the chair across from him.

“About a third done,” said Peter. “How was your day with your parents?”

“Great: diner, bike ride, popcorn with a stupid action movie, some clothes shopping and another diner, a nice day. They are thrilled with my grades — they brought cupcakes. Dad is going to start teaching me to drive this weekend. I can get both of my learners permits next month.”

“So cool. So you’ll learn to drive and to be an X-Man all at once. That’s gonna be crazy."

“Right? I’m excited. I’ve been looking forward to sixteen. I can’t believe you started when you were fourteen. We’re under so much supervision when we start at sixteen. Kitty started six months ago, so jeally.”

“A) Don’t say ‘jeally.’ B) I was only a few months off of fifteen. C) If you start at fourteen without good supervision, you might lose a kidney, forty-six pounds, your appendix and the correct way your leg works. So sixteen is probably better.’”

“Well, when you put it like that,” said Bobby, tossing the little Batman from hand to hand.

“Don’t lose my Batman, Bobby. I only have, like, eight other identical ones at home.” Bobby laughed and put the figure down, “Where is Kitty?”

“Driving lesson with Ms. Grey,” said Bobby. “She’s really bad at it.” In the weeks of his recovery, he’d gotten closer with Kitty. She was funny and nice. He had stopped wearing his mask around her. She was from Illinois. While she didn’t want to know his name, she was no more likely than Bobby to recognize his face. Bobby was looking at the heat packs Peter had strapped to himself. “How was swinging?” 

“Okay. Not great but okay.”

It was there, between them and Bobby asked softly, “How was the court?”

“They all pled guilty,” said Peter. 

“Spidey, that’s good. Isn’t that good? You don’t have to wait to see if they’re going to prison: they’re all going to prison.”

“Yeah, but I just want them to have to face what they did.”

“There were two hundred hours of footage of what they did,” said Bobby.

“But nothing about what’s happened since,” said Peter.

“Spidey,” said Bobby. 

“They don’t have to face up to the consequences,” said Peter.

“They’re going to prison,” said Bobby again. “That is a pretty big consequence.” 

“Yeah,” said Peter. 

“Can I have a bite of your ice cream?” asked Bobby.

Peter held out his spoon, “As long as you aren’t a germophobe.”

Taking the spoon, Bobby said, “I think it’s a good thing that you don’t have to live through it again by hearing it all.” He took a bite, waiting for Peter to answer.

“I’m living through it right now, Bobby. I’m thin, I ache, I’m covered in bruises and I have nightmares. It’s not over yet and they all stood there and acted like they were doing the honorable thing by admitting what they did.”

Bobby handed the spoon back, “It sucks that they all disappointed you.”

“Yeah,” agreed Peter. “Yeah.” 

Bobby put Batman on the highest part of the wall and leaned him back and said, “Look, he’s about to fly away.”

“Batman doesn’t fly.”

“I thought he was a superhero,” said Bobby.

“Can you fly?” asked Peter. “The majority of superheroes don’t fly.”

“But they do in comics,” said Bobby.

“Batman doesn’t.”

“So what’s his superpower?”

“Really smart and really rich,” said Peter.

“So he’s Tony Stark,” said Bobby.

“Yeah, kind of,” agreed Peter. “Except, Batman would save Robin if Superman kidnapped Robin… sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” asked Bobby, as Peter handed him the spoon again.

“I can’t even have a conversation about pretend superheroes without making it about me.”

Bobby took a bite and said, “When I came here,” he breathed out slowly. “After leaving the police station… everyone was so nice to me. But… I threw some stuff at Mr. Summers and I shouted at Professor Xavier and called him cripple. And it took me about three months to actually turn up to my classes… I was so cool and I lost my real life and was thrown into an alternative universe where I was a monster who froze people. I thought I was in hell. Like, literal hell. I thought I was killed by Rocky at the party and went to hell. I was a cool athlete and then I couldn’t control my body and had ice coming out of me… I think I also threw some stuff at Ms. Frost and Logan.”

“You made it sound happy when you told me.”

“You were on drugs after surgery,” said Bobby. “I was being hopeful.”

“Later, you brought up the Holocaust,” said Peter.

“Yeah, that was an accident. What I’m saying is, you’re allowed to be any shade of screwed up you’re feeling. What you went through was way worse and you’re way more together than I was. I didn’t go to class for three months, threw things and called the nicest man in the world a cripple. All you’re doing is seeing very obvious parallels in a conversation. And you should be allowed to talk about it without feeling bad. So does Robin have powers?”

“He is good at acrobatics and martial arts. But he doesn’t have superpowers.”

“So he’s a lame version of you?”

“And he has a really stupid outfit,” Peter tossed the Robin figure to Bobby.

Bobby caught it out of the air, “Oh, that’s really stupid.”

“So stupid,” agreed Peter. 

“You know they’ll all be separated and they’ll all end up in solitary confinement. They always keep law enforcement people out of gen pop in prisons. And the penial system won’t put them together as that’s a powder keg. So they’re going to spend decades with no one to talk to. Widow might not find that too hard but Tony Stark getting de facto silent treatment? That’s gonna suck.” Bobby handed him the spoon. “I know you want them to hurt. They’re gonna hurt.”

“Even after everything… there is some part of me that feels sad when you say that. Mr. Stark was my friend,” Peter took a bite, making sure there was a good amount of cookie dough on his spoon. 

“Yeah,” agreed Bobby.

“Gen pop?” said Peter, with a small smile.

“I really like Prison Break, sue me.”

Peter laughed. His phone rang and he saw May’s number. Picking up he said, “Hey, May.”

“Hey, honey. There was a pileup on the JFK Expressway and the trauma is coming out of our ears.”

“You’re getting pulled into emergency surgery.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay, May, really,” said Peter, taking a bite of ice cream. “I’m surrounded by friends here.”

“I heard that the Avengers pled guilty.”

“Yeah,” he replied, not trusting himself to go into detail hearing her voice. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, but I’m not going to fall to pieces just because you have to pull a double shift,” he promised. Then he said, “Bobby and I can stay up far too late, and hang out.”

“You need sleep to heal.”

“I’ll sleep,” he promised. 

“With the amount of incoming… I might have to pull a triple.”

“It’s okay if you have to pull a triple too. Just try to get some sleep between surgeries and remember to eat something.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” she repeated. 

“May, it’s not the first time you’ve stayed at the hospital all night. I’ll be okay. And if I have a nightmare, I’ll go wake Bobby up and bug him.” Bobby held out his hand and Peter said, “He wants to talk. Do you have time before you have to scrub?”

“Yes, honey. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He handed the phone to Bobby who said, “Hey, May, here’s the plan: dinner, then a swim, then a shower, then we’re gonna pile into the media room with so many snacks and play a video game tournament. Then Kitty and I will kick everyone out claiming Spidey has to take off his mask ‘cause it’s itchy and then we’ll lock the door and play the game until Spidey passes out. Don’t worry.”

With his hearing, now that he wasn’t in pain, he heard May say, “Thank you, Bobby.”

“No need, it’s gonna be fun. This is the point of summer break. So, good luck at work.” They exchanged goodbyes and Bobby handed the phone back, disconnected from the call, saying, “We’ve got to steal Remy’s candy.”

“Why do you call all the adults by honorifics and Remy just Remy?” 

“Remy is twenty-five and teaches health… not an actual adult.”

“Do you need my web shooters?”

“To do what?” asked Bobby.

“Steal the candy,” said Peter. 

Bobby just laughed, he looked around, “Hey, Marie, where is Remy?”

“He was doing magic tricks for the little kids, last I saw, in the den.”

“So you’re going to sneak into his rooms?” asked Peter, taking another bite. 

“You’re over thinking this,” said Bobby. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” said Peter, he was slow to stand up and he took the ice cream and moved with care. “I want new heat packs.” 

He limped down to the kitchen where he swapped out his heating pads. Then he and Bobby went to the den where Remy was screwing around with cards and making the little kids laugh. “Hello, boys.”

“Remy, Spidey’s aunt has to stay at work so we’re having a video game marathon. Did you hear about the courtroom?”

“I did,” said Remy. “Hank got home a little while ago. He wanted to give you time as you were in the library and having a break,” he gave Peter a very gentle, understanding smile.

“So, as we’re distracting Spidey from that, I need, like, all your candy.”

“My candy?” asked Remy.

“You get the good stuff,” clarified Bobby.

“Yes,” Remy nodded, “because I buy it, with good money.”

“They pled guilty,” said Bobby. “Spidey wanted them to have to listen to what they did at the trial. Look at him: he’s carrying around a gallon of ice cream. He is not okay but sugar is good.”

Remy sighed, “Fine, I’ll get you the candy after dinner.”

“You could just tell me where your stash is, and then I could get it for you,” offered Bobby.

“I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night,” said Remy. “I’m letting you have my candy because Spider-Man is having a rough time. You can eat everything I have been hoarding — with my blessing — in this situation. I am not giving you unfettered access in perpetuity.”

“Thank you, Remy,” said Peter. They went to the kitchen so Peter could throw out the carton. Hank came into the kitchen and wordlessly wrapped his arms around Peter. “I wanted them to go to prison but I wanted that after they had to be on trial and explain themselves.”

“I know,” Hank stroked his back, “I know.”

“I really wanted Captain America to have to look at all the scans and x-rays,” said Peter.

“I know, I know,” said Hank. “You’re allowed to speak at their sentencing.”

“I don’t want to be in the same room as them,” said Peter.

Hank nodded, “Okay. We can write a victim impact statement that is entered into court documents and you can read it on camera so that they have to listen to you. And I know it’s not the same, but they will be forced to listen.”

Peter nodded, “Okay.”

“We’ll write it together,” said Hank. 

“Bobby, Kitty and I are having a video game marathon tonight,” said Peter.

“We can start in the morning, while you’re swinging.”

Bobby sighed, “We can delay the video games. This will make Spidey feel better than GTA.” 

“You two should help me cook dinner.”

They spoke about what Peter wanted to say as they made three large lasagnas and garlic bread loaves. Hank told him what things he couldn’t say and they had a rough draft before they put dinner on the table. Sitting between Kitty and Bobby, Peter ate three large sliced of lasagna and quite a bit of garlic bread, with his mask rolled up, before Bobby said, “This was delicious. May Spidey and I be excused?” 

“Sure, you two did the lion’s share of the work,” said Hank.

“It was really good,” said Peter.

They went out to the pool where school branded swim trunks were waiting in the pool house. Peter changed and saw Bobby looking at his ribs. “Are you looking at my ribs because you’re still hungry?”

“No, you poor thing,” said Bobby, “I was just thinking how nice it is to have a straight friend who does freak out about changing in the same room as me.”

“So, because I’m a guy and you like guys I’m supposed to automatically be attractive to you? Is that how it works for gay guys because that’s not how it works for straight guys.”

“Lots of straight guys seem to think that’s how it works for gay guys,” said Bobby. 

“Well, I’m not a lot of straight guys, I’m just one straight guy,” said Peter. “And I don’t think you’re checking me out. And even if you did like me, I trust you to respect me and not to check me out while we’re changing. But also, you don’t like me like that.” They went out to the pool and dove in. Peter liked being able to swim again. He had missed being wet all over while his leg had been in the metal torture device. Kitty came out and dove into the water, she put her head out, still dry. “How?” he asked. 

“I’m swimming between the water. I’m having a good hair day,” she said. 

He enjoyed messing around. It was hot and the cool water felt amazing against his skin. But, Hank came out and said, “Hey Spidey, try to do six laps for me.”

“I can’t do laps in my mask.”

“No one else is around,” Hank held out a hand and Peter took off his mask.

The first three laps were easy. The fourth was a struggle and the fifth and sixth were a hard uphill fight. He clung to the wall of the pool. “Six laps: my body hates me.”

“Thank you for doing your six laps,” said Hank. 

“Imma puke,” Peter pushed himself out of the pool and Hank managed to empty a plastic bucket of pool toys just in time to catch Peter’s vomit. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I pushed,” said Hank. 

“It wasn’t too much vomit, just a little,” said Peter. “I kept most of my lasagna down.”

“I’m sorry,” Hank said. 

“What’s the rule about apologies?” said Peter.

“Yeah, but I was pushing, I shouldn’t have pushed,” said Hank.

Peter pushed himself out of the pool, sitting on the edge. He hung his head low and breathed slowly. “Swimming six laps shouldn’t be so hard.” 

“You have to be kinder to yourself, Spidey. They broke you,” said Hank. More gently he said, “And you have to stand up for yourself. The second half of your laps looked slower, but I didn’t realize you were hurting. You have to stand up to your friends sometimes and say, ‘No, I’m stopping,’ so that you don’t puke. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you so you need to learn to cry uncle.”

Peter nodded, not apologizing. He said, “I’m going to take a shower and then maybe I’ll have some cold garlic bread before we play video games. I’ll be fine, Hank.”

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. He, Bobby and Kitty passed out in bean bag chairs in front of the quietly looping video game menu on the giant screen. He woke up once and was pleased with the glow of the screen. He pulled a blanket off one of the couches and passed out again, tired and comfortable. The next afternoon he and Hank and May sat down and typed out a statement. Hank said, “Leave it a week, we’ll look at it again and rewrite it. And a week later we will rewrite it. And a week after that we will look at this and if you still like it, we will record it.”

He worked out and slept. Ned visited. He worked out, hung out in the library, swam, helped cook and slept. He watched the Congressional hearings. Hank had to testify. He looked good in a suit. Everything about the Legacy virus came out. Hank was a savior. All of Peter’s medical records were aired of C-SPAN and PBS. Peter watched it on the couch. It was messy, very messy: torture of a minor who was a citizen at the hands of the director of a federal agency. All sorts of politicians and pundits talked about it constantly. Was a genetic mutation justification? Should people with mutations be forced to serve “the greater good?”

That horrified Peter, “Greater good? You can’t torture someone into doing something.” Politicians echoed his words. There was a lot of talk about mutant rights but also “the threat from these outsiders.” There were mutant rights advocates but also Christians, who Christ wouldn’t have liked, saying cruel things about mutants not having souls, that people with genetic mutations were made of sin. 

There was a lot of grandstanding and anger and shouting. There was talk about new legislation to be able to shut down a federal agency. Half of S.H.I.E.L.D. went to prison. The men who watched him pee at gunpoint went to prison. There was lots of speculation about the future of the agency. There was a lot of speculation about “forcing these genetically different ‘people’ into the light.” They all said people like the word was in debate, like mutants didn’t qualify. Fury went to prison, but Peter was still waiting on Captain America’s sentence. 

Peter ate. He slept. That was all he did. He got better little by little. He gained weight little by little. They rewrote his statement and finally recorded it, Peter in his handmade suit and mask. He spoke in the deeper voice he always used in the mask.

“Your honor, I’m Spider-Man. And recently, everything has sucked. It just sucks. When I was leaving school one very normal day, Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon beat the living daylights out of me, drugged me and kidnapped me. Captain America broke my leg with his shield. I have always been a happy-go-lucky kind of person but it’s been hard. 

“After experiencing eight long days of being starved, frozen, in pain and forced to pee in front grown men with guns, it’s harder to be happy-go-lucky. I lost forty-six pounds. My appendix was so injured from stress that it had to be removed, my kidney died because of undernourishment and my leg had to be rebroken and then put into a metal cage called an Ilizarov apparatus and I had to wall crawl to the bathroom. I couldn’t put weight on my leg and I couldn’t let my mother or even Dr. McCoy help me to the bathroom because, after having all those armed guards watch me pee, the idea of being in a bathroom with anyone else — even a nice person that I trust — is supremely creepy. 

“Dr. McCoy says that everything I experienced was torture and that it’s just that the bathroom hit me hardest. Over four trips, twenty-one different grown men saw my penis and that was not okay. It is not okay that, in a timeframe when I would eat sixty-four thousand calories, I only ate two thousand one hundred and eighty and that a lot of that I was forced into vomiting. I lost forty-six pounds while in captivity. It is not okay that people I have looked up to since I was little hurt me and scared me and allowed that situation to continue.

“I keep having to say it out loud, that Captain America broke my leg, that he and Black Widow and Falcon kidnapped me, that they and SHIELD hurt me, that Mr. Stark could have saved me any time he chose. I keep saying it out loud because none of it sounds real. A federal agency and four superheroes don’t do that to a fifteen-year-old. Four superheroes don’t do that to someone who has eaten breakfast in their kitchen. But it happened. It’s surreal but also very real. It was a horrific nightmare I never could have imagined that played out in real time.

“And now I’m here. I’m painfully thin with a bad limp. After two surgeries, I have two organs in jars and a leg that isn’t quite straight. I am a fifteen-year-old who is sharing his bed with his mother and cuddling with an Ewok stuffed toy like a little kid because I don’t do well by myself. Every day, I work to be myself, both physically and mentally. But my hip gets sore when I walk. I get exhausted when I try to swim. When I try to use my webs I can’t swing right. Dr. McCoy says that it’s because my leg isn’t its old shape and it’s a lack of strength: I lost so much muscle so quickly while starving for those eight days that I can’t launch myself the way I could. And my landings are all wrong. I try to do a flip and instead I hit beams I’m swinging on. I try to land and instead I collapse. 

“I did a little research on the internet about what you should and shouldn’t say during a victim impact statement. It said to avoid coarse language but the only way I can describe it is that it sucks. Everything aches. I’m always sore, I’m always tired, I’m always agitated because I am always sore and tired. I have scars on my abdomen from where my kidney and appendix were removed, my lower leg is one solid scar. Dr. McCoy says that, with my healing factor, my abdominal scars should heal completely but my leg will never look normal again. I can’t look at my body and not see what happened to me. I’ll gain the weight, I’ll learn how to move on a leg that isn’t quite right, but it won’t be the same. It’s never going to look or feel like it did before. It might always ache. 

“I was a sickly little kid and when I got bitten by the radioactive spider that gave me my abilities my second life began. It was a life where I wasn’t sick or visually impaired or clumsy and I got to help people and be useful. It was great. Before, I had all the posters of the Avengers and their t-shirts and a stuffed Iron Man and a replica of Captain America’s shield. Then suddenly, I was super and I thought I could be like them. I did my best to be honorable, helpful and a role model. I was lucky that I’m one of the few people with the genetic anomaly that turns radiation into an asset instead of a poison. And because of that genetic anomaly, SHIELD claimed they had the legal right to torture me. Captain America, who I had admired so much and dressed up as for Halloween four separate times in my life, looked me in the eye and said what they were doing was legal and that they were the good guys. Good guys do not do what they did. Heroes rescue kidnapped fifteen-year-olds they don’t kidnap them or stand by and just let it happen. 

“In all honesty, your honor, I was looking forward to the trial. I am living, day-by-day, with what happened. I am living with the pain and betrayal, trying to heal. I am still stuck in a horror show because my body is broken. I don’t move like me; I don’t physically feel like me. I haven’t gone home yet, I’m still at X-Mansion, but when I do go home I will walk into a room filled with their posters and a plastic version of Captain America’s shield hanging on the wall and an Iron Man bedspread and that idea fills me with dread. Even if my mom takes all that junk down before I get home, it will still be there in my head — my bedroom stained with the ideals of a kid who believed in the Avengers. 

“The moment Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson and Tony Stark pled guilty, it was over for them. They stepped back from it and no longer had to play an active role. They opted out of the situation and I can’t. I wanted the trial so that they would at least have to see all the x-rays, and CT scans and hear from Dr. McCoy about just how badly broken they left me. By pleading guilty they got let off of actually seeing the damage. But, even if they had actually had to listen and look, all of my medical records cannot show the nightmares, or the sadness, stress, hurt and disillusionment or just how much it sucks overall. Now it’s up to you to decide what happens to these people who I looked up to so much and who changed my life in the worst way possible. 

“I have been trying my hardest not to think about them, even though they take up a great deal of my thoughts. I try not to add more thoughts about them on top of all the rest so I didn’t Google what the possible sentences could be. I’m trying to move on and just think about my future as a hero and not their actions. I am trying as hard as possible to move on from them. So, I don’t know the possible punishments for their actions, and I am not going to request any specific sentence because that’s up to your judgment. The police in Queens like me specifically because I believe in the legal system and help them without going vigilante. I believe that judges get to where they are by being good at their jobs and that you know what their sentence should be. There is no punishment that will undo what they did. Nothing you can decide will put my organs back, or fix my leg, or erase eight days of terrifying, painful hell. So, I just ask you to be fair. I know that, in pleading guilty, they might be shown more leniency. But they didn’t show me any. 

“All I ask, while you’re deliberating, is that you keep in mind that they were supposed to be bastions of honor and they all played roles in kidnapping, torturing, starving and maiming a fifteen-year-old who admired them and actually considered one of them to be a friend and mentor. Who I am as a victim seems, to me, to be less important than who they are as the victimizers. Heroes don’t do what they did. I don’t know if you can legally strip someone of an honorific, but I don’t think they should be allowed to keep their cool superhero names. Captain America broke my leg and maybe Steve Rogers doesn’t get to be called by a name that sounds so inspiring. Steve Rogers broke my leg with his shield. But, surely, no one called Captain America would use a symbol of freedom to maim a high schooler. Thank you, your honor, for your time and for listening to me.” 

Hank turned off the camera and said, “Good job.”

“Thanks,” said Peter taking off his mask and scrubbing his hand over his eyes.

“Sentencing is tomorrow. I’ll send the video and your letter to the court. Professor X is going. He talked to the judge and he is going to use his phone so you can watch.” 

Peter didn’t sleep that night, he just stayed still and let May sleep. The next day he watched the trial in the lab on a big monitor with his friends, save for Kitty. They liked each other but he thought she was maybe trying to give him space, like they weren’t close enough yet. It started with the prosecution reading off all the charges and talking about the horrible things they did to Peter and then they showed Peter’s video and when asked to offer a defense to make a statement and it was Mr. Stark who said, “We can’t defend our actions. We’re not going to speak. We did what we did and we did it willingly.” 

The judge nodded and she said, “I need a few hours. I thought I knew what your sentence was going to be but, Victim Impact Statements aren’t just there to make the victim feel better they are meant to make the victim heard. We are taking a recess for four hours.” 

Everyone stood and then Charles turned the camera to himself and said, “This is good, Spider-Man. She really listened to your words. You had influence. You were not powerless in this trial. You got a say and that’s good.” Peter nodded. “How do you feel?”

“I really want a greasy breakfast,” said Peter honestly. 

Charles nodded, “Greasy breakfast, hang out with Iceman and Shadowcat, relax for a few hours. This will all be over soon. I’ll call in four hours and we’ll see this through to the end. You are brave enough.” Peter nodded again. “We’re all on your team.” Peter nodded, not trusting his voice. “You are very brave and you should have a greasy breakfast.” 

“Thank you, Charles.”

The man disconnected the call and May said, “Boys, come help me cook a big breakfast.” Peter put his mask on and upstairs he shredded potatoes as Bobby sliced peppers and May worked on onions. 

She was sniffing and Peter said, “Onions or stress?”

“Little of column A, little of column B,” she smiled at him. They fried sausage and made omelets, hash browns, pancakes and toast. People came in, grabbing food, Peter ate the whole time. 

Bruce and Hank came up for plates but when back down to the lab, taking the opportunity to work on their projects.

Teenagers came down last and Kitty asked, “How was the sentencing?” 

“Not over,” said Peter. “Just on recess.” 

“Can I come watch with you?” she asked and Peter smiled, mask pulled up to let him eat. 

“Sure, Kitty.” 

She squeezed his hand as she passed him Bobby raised an eyebrow and when she moved away, Bobby whispered, “Your chin is blushing.”

“Shut up. You suck, I hate you and we aren’t friends,” Peter whispered back. And sure, he had a tiny crush, but she was really nice, and fun, and smart, and pretty: anyone would have a little crush.

After cooking breakfast in rounds for so long, May said, “We should go back down. Charles will call soon.” They headed back down to the lab and Peter pulled his mask off. Just as they were getting comfortable the monitor lit up with the call icon. 

Bruce hit the answer button and Charles said, “We’re just about to go back in. How was breakfast, Spidey?”

“So good,” said Peter. “Just what I needed.”

“Are you ready?” asked Charles. 

“No,” said Peter. “But I have to be.”

Charles wheeled himself back into the courtroom and went to the front, just behind the prosecutors. The judge came in and took her seat and said, “I am sure that many times victims do not think judges consider their statements. In many instances, they speak and we don’t call for a recess before handing down the sentence. It’s not that we aren’t listening, it’s not that we don’t value what they have to say, it’s that we already know many of the details they share, we have already heard it in testimony. In this case, Spider-Man wasn’t heard until today. I believed that I knew what your sentences before I heard his statement but he altered my decision. 

“Many judges feel that after a defendant pleads guilty they should be shown leniency. A guilty plea saves the taxpayers money, it saves the court time and it shows that the guilty party knows what they did was wrong. Judges are not advocates for victims, we’re to uphold the law and be impartial. We are supposed to act for the greater good of society. For justice and balance, we cannot, no matter our personal feelings, be advocates for the victims. And Spider-Man was right, in some ways, he as a victim may be less important than you are as the perpetrators of the assault. 

“You’re superheroes, and on some level, you knew — right from the start — that what you were doing was abhorrent. No one who has promised to dedicate their lives to the greater good could abduct a child by beating them and drugging them without knowing that they were in the wrong. No one would leave that child in the hands of their abductors, knowing they could stop it, and believe they were morally just. I have seen the full-length video of Spider-Man’s torture. You never submitted a defense and I must use my discretion in deciding your sentencing. I watched over two hundred hours of torture. All of you knew you were in the wrong.

“You will each receive the maximum incarceration for your charges. And you will do so in high-security prisons. Because of your abilities, you will be given the option to help fight off large threats should the X-Men or Fantastic Four request your presence. You will not be compelled to help but it’s an option. Should you choose to assist, you will not be given you iconic weapons that helped harm a child. You will be issued with things similar but not those symbols. After rendering that help, you will be escorted back to prison. None of you will be eligible for parole until you have served at least four-fifths of your sentences. I knew that before I heard his statement. That is not a judgment, it’s just the result of an equation that has a sliding scale for your crimes. 

“Then there was the question of compensation. Many believe that superheroes are poor because saving the world doesn’t net you a payday. And while that may be true for street-level superheroes, it certainly is not for you. You, along with other notable superheroes, signed off on your likeness rights and copyrighted phrases and names to the Maria Stark Foundation to create and market merchandise. The exact merchandise that apparently blankets Spider-Man’s bedroom. In return, the Maria Stark Foundation donates ninety percent of the profits to charities and ten percent to you. That’s a lot of money. I did my due diligence and knew, before entering the court this morning that I would order you to pay for Spider-Man’s medical expenses. I knew I would order you to each pay an additional fifteen million dollars to the X-Men for them to keep in a trust. That money will pay for Spider-Man’s college and he will receive the remainder after he graduates. He doesn’t have to worry about the future medical expenses for lingering damage he might have. He doesn’t have to worry about holding down a day job, should he wish to be a street-level superhero for the rest of his life. With a complicated and wholly legal net of lawyers, dummy companies and protected identities, Charles Xavier has been protecting and supporting children with different genes for twenty-five years. The IRS gets their taxes but no one is quite sure who they are. I have no doubt that Spider-Man will get his money and that there will be no distinguishable ties to you when he receives it. That young man has been through enough without also losing his privacy. I knew I would hand down this judgment before I heard his statement.

“But his words gave me something to think about. Is it possible to legally strip someone of their honorifics? It was a conundrum. I had clerks and colleagues trying to find a precedent. We never found an answer to that philosophical question. You can be stripped of a knighthood or a degree but how can you legally strip someone of an alias with positive connotations? Can you deny someone a nickname they have had for years? Well, if the name is copyrighted and they are convicted criminals and the copyright is held by an upstanding organization the answer is that it’s actually not hard at all. I have spoken to the Maria Stark Foundation board. The Foundation legally owns your names. The names don’t belong to you. The question I posed to them was, do they value children and morals or do they value their intellectual property? They are filling out paperwork to release their copyrights into the common domain. Their contracts with you stated that they could sever their bonds with you, with impunity, and without back pay in the face of immoral actions. You were supposed to be paid hundreds of thousands of dollars at the end of this quarter but, instead, the Fund for Abused Minors will be receiving those payments.

“Spider-Man said that no one called Captain America would use a symbol of freedom to maim a child. I agree. I read the history books and saw the old newsreels: Captain America fights for what’s right night and day. You are not Captain America, Captain Rogers, not legally and not morally. I watched as Mr. Stark stood at a press conference and said, ‘I am Iron Man,’ and promised to protect the people his weapons could have harmed. Iron Man has done that; Iron Man has done amazing things. He destroyed stockpiles of Stark Industry weapons, he protected people from villains who managed to scavenge those weapons’ remains. It is not surprising that children wear costume versions of his beautiful armor. You, Mr. Stark, valued a weapon you could have easily destroyed over a fifteen-year-old’s wellbeing. He considered you a friend but you didn’t even act as an impersonal hero. You are not Iron Man. We know the story of Black Widow, a young child broken by the KGB who overcame that horrific past and learned to value human life and justice over a shadowy government agency and became a hero instead of a government-funded mercenary. You are not Black Widow, Ms. Romanoff, you traded performing horrific violence for one corrupt agency to committing horrible acts another. And Falcon, the mysterious amazing man who flew in, without any prior association, and threw his lot in with Captain America to fight off the new Hydra. He’s amazing, he’s inspirational, he’s the proof that you don’t have to get in on the ground floor to be part of something amazing. His beautiful wings shine with glorious promise. He does not participate in beating and drugging a kid who was leaving school. He’s the person we can look to and think, ‘Maybe, one day, I could be a superhero too.’ Well, I — a woman in her sixties — might someday be hit by radiation and become a superhero, you never know. But you, Mr. Wilson, are not Falcon. It’s unclear the extent of your participation, you were not on that boat, you didn’t break his leg or drug him but you also weren’t on the Quinjet that came to break him out. It seems highly likely, from Spider-Man’s words on the video online, that his concussion and subsequently his forced vomiting are the result of you cutting his webs and stopping him from running away from the adults who were hitting him. I don’t know exactly, you mounted no defense. Your prison sentence is shorter than the people you are being tried with, because your charges were only first-degree assault of a minor and felony kidnapping. These might be lesser charges, but they are charges that wouldn’t be leveled against Falcon, because he wouldn’t do that.

“None of you have the right to those names — not morally and not legally. For the sake of society, we cannot call criminals by lofty names. We must be better than that. Now, those names belong to the public and history. Those names belong to the children who will continue to dress up as heroes and make up stories of the Avengers. I doubt parents will tell their six-year-olds what happened here, no one wants to burst a child’s dreams. So those kids will continue to idolize the Avengers. And why shouldn’t they? Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow and Falcon are amazing heroes who always do the right thing and always protect children. It’s just that you are not them. By separating you from those shining beacons of pure goodness, maybe Spider-Man will be able to walk into his bedroom and see his Iron Man bedspread and just see Iron Man and not Tony Stark. You are four convicted criminals; you don’t get the glory associated with those names. 

“Your weapons will be destroyed. The Wakandan government has been angry about the original theft of the vibranium ever since they found out about Captain America’s shield. They can have it back. It’s a weapon in a brutal assault case. Your actions, Captain Rogers, destroyed its power as an inspiring icon. You each have three weeks to deliver payment to the X-Men for both his medical expenses and his trust fund. You have three appeals for your incarceration length but the financial penalty and the legal removal of your aliases are not reversible unless you manage to somehow, shockingly, be acquitted. If that happens, Spider-Man is free to sue you in a civil case. He may do so now, if he so wishes, however, he said he is trying to move on and I think he will walk away with the knowledge that you aren’t superheroes and he doesn’t have to worry about his financial future after you broke his body. Bailiffs, please remove the prisoners. Court adjourned.”

The judge stood and Peter whispered, “Charles, can I talk to the judge?”

“No, Spidey, you can write her a letter.”

“I just want to say thank you. It’s really nice that now I can say that it wasn’t Captain America who broke my leg it was a horrible guy named Steve.”

“You can write that in a letter,” said Charles. “You aren’t supposed to have much contact with the judge.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Okay, Charles.”

“I’m coming home and we’re getting pizza for dinner,” he smiled, “Ask one of the teachers to order it now so that it’s ready by dinner.” Peter nodded, “I’ll be home, soon.” Peter nodded and the man disconnected the call. 

“Charles wants pizza,” Peter repeated to Hank. 

“I heard,” Hank nodded. “How are you doing?”

“She took away their names,” said Peter. “I didn’t think she would actually do that.”

“She also gave you sixty million dollars,” said Bobby.

“That’s far more abstract,” said Peter. 

“So sixty million in cold hard cash is more abstract than people being legally stripped of their nicknames to your mind?” asked Bobby, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s like,” Peter breathed out, “say you wanted an X-Wing LEGO kit for your birthday, it costs fifty bucks, but your parents don’t get it and instead you get the Hogwarts Castle set that costs four hundred and fifty bucks even though you aren’t a Harry Potter fan. It’s not that you don’t appreciate it, it’s just… not what you wanted. I got both the X-Wing and Hogwarts. They don’t get to be the Avengers anymore and I got sixty million dollars.”

“What are you going to do with sixty million dollars?” asked Kitty. 

“Pay off the mortgage — don’t argue, May — get a good camera, get a new oven,” Peter shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Honey,” said May. 

Peter interrupted with a laugh, “May, it’s sixty million. Don’t argue about the house, that’s more money than we could spend in four lifetimes. Please, let’s pay off the mortgage together. You did most of the work and it’s my home too. The amount of money it costs versus the amount of worry it saves? Please?”

She smiled, “Okay, honey. After college, you can pay.”

“You should do it now,” said Hank, looking at his phone. “Lower interest cost. I think keeping the money in a trust is a good idea but Charles will have access the money and I say you pay off the house now. It won’t be a real trust, it’ll be a high yield savings account that Peter will get access to when he graduates. But you two should talk to Charles about paying off the mortgage.”

“What’s on your phone?” asked Peter. 

Hank glanced up, “The four pizza places we like to use when we order pizza for the whole school prefer texts for large orders.” 

“Captain America didn’t break my leg. It was just a guy called Steve… I still have to redecorate my room though… I can sort of divorce them. They aren’t heroes but I still can’t have a room that’s a shrine to them.”

“Maybe put up a Beast poster,” suggested Hank. 

“No, that’s weird: we’re friends,” said Peter.

“You have Iron Man on your bed,” protested Hank.

“Yeah, but I’ve had that bedspread since I was eight,” said Peter. 

“Maybe it’s time you redecorate anyway,” said Kitty. “It’s been almost half your life.”

“Maybe comic book heroes,” suggested Bobby. “Or Star Wars, or Star Trek, or Doctor Who.”

“Doctor Who?” repeated Peter.

“I just kind of assumed you liked it: it’s super geeky. I didn’t mean to offend you,” said Bobby, quickly. 

“I do like it,” said Peter. “But TARDIS blue seems a bit much.”

“I have no idea what a TARDIS blue is,” said Bobby. He smiled at Peter. 

“How are we friends?” asked Peter.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” said Bobby. “Spider-Man,” he said with excitement. 

“Yeah?” asked Peter.

“I’m not saying your name. I’m saying: you love spiders, you like your color scheme. Why not give yourself a spider web room? Why not decorate your room for a superhero who won’t let you down?”

Peter gasped, “That would be so cool.” 

“I bet you can get a Spider-Man bedspread in Chinatown,” said Kitty. “You can get anything in Chinatown.”

“It’s probably Spider-Guy,” said Bobby, “Chinatown loves preempting lawsuits by being just a little bit wrong.”

“That might be even better,” said Peter.

“Painting party,” said Bobby.

“We could try to avoid the loss of anonymity,” said May. “You could not look at the street signs and still not know Spidey’s name and we could try to avoid you figuring it out.”

“I’m really smart,” said Kitty.

“And I’m not as smart but I think that’s too easy,” added Bobby. “I know I have been reticent about learning your real name, but it might be worth it so that we could have a painting party.”

“And you guys could crash at my place,” said Peter. It was nice, the idea of going home was a bit daunting. It would all seem so normal but so much had change. It would be weird to walk back into his room after months away. Having people from the Xavier School would ease the transition. 

“I love painting parties,” said Kitty.

She and Bobby looked at each other and Bobby said, “Okay, Spidey. What’s your name?”

“Peter,” he said, “Peter Parker.”

“Okay, Peter, let me get a sketch pad,” said Kitty, standing and going up the stairs.

“Peter Parker,” said Bobby slowly. 

“Bobby Drake,” replied Peter. 

“So is it some big house in Queens? Should I brace myself for someplace the Avengers would have spent long weekends?” He pushed himself up to sit on a lab bench. 

“It’s a two bedroom detached,” said Peter, “we have a nice little backyard and a front porch. When I get all of my money it’s gonna have a great room downstairs.”

“Honey,” said May, “please don’t spend your money before you have it.”

“May, I don’t think taking out two walls is going to break the bank,” protested Peter. “We’ve always talked about having an open plan downstairs. With the living room, kitchen and study all flowing into one another? It would be so nice.”

“The study would be so much brighter,” conceded May. 

“You’re going to be in that house until you’re a hundred and ten, that’s always going to be my bedroom, why shouldn’t I help make our dream house? I’m not moving us into a palace, just making our house awesome.”

“Okay, Peter,” she ceded. “And once the men knock through it, you and I can repaint the study, because the paints will clash.”

“A second painting party,” said Bobby.

“By the time we get to that one, you’ll be legal. You can have a beer while we paint,” said May. 

Kitty came back saying, “We should figure out the colors.”

They started working. They stayed in the lab where Peter didn’t need his mask. Together they drew out a picture of a cityscape on his walls. They were getting rid of all his stupid posters and we're going to place his framed photos he was proud of taking and all the pictures of his friends and family into the windows. They accounted for his bookshelves and desk, making sure they wouldn’t put anything important on the walls that would be blocked. The buildings were going to be the maroon of his suit and the sky was going to be the pale blue of his sweats. It wasn’t the dark vivid colors of the suit Mr. Stark had made, it was his real suit. They put little lines of spider web between the buildings and a Spidey-Signal on a cloud on the ceiling sky, like the Bat-Signal only the spider off his suit. 

“This is more like a week than a party,” said Hank. 

“Well, you’re welcome,” said May. “It’s not a big place but if you kids want to come and hang out for a week, take a little vacation in suburban Queens.”

“That could be fun,” said Bobby. “Do you think that that would make going home easier or fun?” he asked Peter. “Because, honestly, if I were you, I’d be kinda freaked out about going home, after everything.” 

“I’m kinda freaked out,” admitted Peter. “It might be fun to hang out at my place.”

“Cool, it’s way better than going to Nassau County,” said Bobby, “in part because there is no lynch mob looking for me in Queens. Do we need extra game controllers for your Xbox?”

“Yeah, I only have two controllers,” said Peter. “But Ned has more and he might have left one at our house… May, can I please have a hammock in my bedroom? I know we’d have to drill into the ceiling, but I think it would be really cool to have a hammock on the ceiling. And I can totally dumpster dive one at the end of the summer.”

“Honey, if you’re paying off the mortgage, I can afford to get you a hammock,” said May. “We just have to be sure we drill into the studs or it will bring the ceiling down.”

Peter smiled and drew one into one corner, high up where he could wall crawl to it, next to a bookshelf so he would have somewhere for him to set down his drink. He picked out one online that looked like a spider web. It was expensive and he said, “Birthday and Christmas and good report card? Or is Arkham for my birthday?” He didn’t want their relationship to change. Just because he was going to pay off the mortgage didn’t make him the grownup. She was always in charge of setting the budget and just because they had sixty million dollars didn’t mean that things had changed. That money was locked away and the hammock wasn’t cheap. 

“Yeah, Santa will still bring you a stocking but, birthday, Christmas and a good report card. Arkham was meant to be your birthday present but Steve Rogers broke your leg so you got an extra gift.” She smiled and nodded, “Birthday, Christmas and a good report card,” she repeated. “That’s your gift: the hammock and your friends coming for a staycation. And I’ll get you one of those blowup pools, a nice one that can fit teenagers. One of the fancy ones.”

“With a tarp, a cheap kiddy pool, one of those rotating sprinklers and thirty bucks worth of PVC piping, we could build an iconic backyard splash pad with less money,” said Bobby. Then he added, “It’s totally gonna kill your grass though. But it will use way less water than a fancy pool over the course of a summer and the pool would kill your grass too. There are tutorials on Pinterest. And Peter’s a scientist so I think it won’t end up being a fail.”

“A painting and Pinterest party,” said Kitty with excitement.

“That sounds great,” said May. “It sounds like you guys might be staying two weeks.”

Bobby blushed, “We can scale it back,” he conceded.

“You are both welcome to come and stay for two weeks,” she said, “I worry that you might be bored but, it sounds like you kids are going to be busy. Why don’t you come and when you get bored and run out of activities I’ll bring you home.”

“Splash pad, redecorating, Xbox,” said Kitty, “if we throw in some baking, and a trip to the movies, I can’t see us getting bored.” 

“We can do that. I canceled our yearly trip to the Poconos, having you visit will be like a holiday for us.” May smiled, “Can I play with your iconic splash pad too?” 

“Obviously,” agreed Kitty. 

“Pete’s is going to have to come back for more therapy,” said Hank, “once a week, so you guys can come home for a day while Peter works out, swinging and goes for a swim instead of a splash.”

There was more swinging, more weight gain. Peter sent the judge a letter thanking her and saying that it was a comfort that he could now say that it wasn’t Captain America who broke his leg and that it felt like a safer world when superheroes had consequences. They paid off the mortgage. The house was well and truly their home. May ordered ten sets of the sweatpants and sweatshirt he used for his costume, some larger than his normal size saying, “You’ll grow and you don’t have that bastard’s suit anymore. It’s best to get stuff for new suits now before they sell out with people making costumes for Hero-Con and Halloween.

He opened new social media accounts and did introductions on each, explaining he had always wanted social media accounts but was well aware of the fact that his age would have been more obvious. There were official accounts for the Avengers and the X-Men and of course Johnny Storm had accounts but he was only just eighteen. If he, Spider-Man, had had accounts people would have realized he was young. He used the slightly deeper voice he always used to disguise his voice. He talked about loving watching cool skating and gymnastic tricks on YouTube and how he intended to add his own now. He admitted that he wasn’t quite sure how he would use his profiles and said, “My swinging sucks at the moment, but once I get good, I’ll show off. Those videos inspired me and maybe I will inspire you guys to do cooler skateboard tricks but don’t try to swing if you aren’t a genetically altered person because I really don’t want the Bugle to claim Spider-Man is inspiring youths to their deaths.” 

He spoke to the Maria Stark Foundation, saying he wanted his name copyrighted, he explained that he wanted the toys they might produce for himself and admitted that he wanted the court to be able to strip his title is he did something terrible. He asked for a bedspread. The lady on the phone was really nice. The Foundation sent the paperwork to the school and it said Peter had veto power over designs and promised him that he would get the original mockup plus anything else he wanted for free. Nowhere in the paperwork did it say his real name. 

After a grand total of twelve weeks, Hank declared Peter healthy enough to go home. Bobby and Kitty came with him so that he would have lots of company walking into his room. Ned was waiting on the front porch. The second video he made for his social media platforms was just thirty seconds and was him in his mask, in front of a plain white wall with nothing identifying about it, holding Cap’s shield. He said, “It’s great that Steve Rogers isn’t Captain America, but I can’t have this in pride of place.” He broke it over his knee, it bent a lot before snapping. He tossed it aside and said, “Out with the old.”

His phone rang about five minutes after he posted his video and MJ said, “Are you home?”

“Um,” he faltered, looking at Kitty, Bobby and Ned. Ned only knew them as Ice and Cat. But he couldn’t claim they were friends from the Stark Internship and call them those names to MJ. But he couldn’t tell her their real names when she would talk to Ned. “Yeah, yeah I’m home. How did you guess?”

“Just a feeling,” she said. Then she added, “I’ll see you in ten.”

“MJ, I’m really tired.”

With a firm voice, she said, “Then put on your jammies and I’ll see you in ten minutes.” She hung up. 

He winced at his friends, “I’m in so deep. She’s angry and she’s coming here.”

Bobby nodded and said, “You have kind of sucked about calling home. We’ll stay upstairs. We’ll keep taking this crap down.”

“Do you want to keep any of it?” asked Ned. “Ben gave you this Iron Man,” he said, holding an Iron Man plushie. It was well loved and Peter looked at it. 

“Don’t burn anything just yet,” said Peter, with a shrug. He pulled a poster of a smiling Steve Rogers off the wall. “Well, we can burn that, but not the toys or clothes, not yet.” The doorbell rang and he said, “That was not ten minutes.”

He headed downstairs and opened the door. Smiling he said, “Sorry I suck about calling or texting. I have only been home for, like, two hours. How did you know?”

“I saw the video of you breaking the shield,” she shrugged. She stared him down. Then she sniffed. “I watched the torture video. I felt like I couldn’t hide my head in the sand — not when he had done so much for us — like I owed it to him to at least see it. It made me puke. But I didn’t see it, not really. Then there was the statement at the courthouse. There wasn’t video, but they released the full transcript. Without the voice and face manipulation, I recognized the speech patterns; I recognized the phrases. You have an Ewok on your bed and a really lame Iron Man bedspread. And realized that I watched two hours of one of my best friends being tortured.” 

She looked really tired and he said, “Two trainee X-Men and Ned are upstairs. Y’wanna come and help take apart my room? Ice and Cat are helping me redecorate. I am getting rid of the shrine to them and make a spider web. There’s drawings of the plan. Cat’s really good at drawing. She’s like you. We’re going to be camping out down here while we paint.”

“X-Men are upstairs?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Trainees,” he replied. “They’re sixteen. Ice just turned sixteen. They aren’t real X-Men yet. You’ll really like them. We’re building a splash pad too, we got the instructions off Pinterest. Making the most of the last of the summer. I’m still doing the physical therapy but I’m done with surgeries and I finished the summer reading so now I get to hang out, which is nice.”

“You really had two surgeries?”

“Yep, my kidney and appendix are going on a shelf.”

“And Ned knows?” she asked. 

“He’s known me since we were six. He only got ten minutes into the video.”

“He didn’t say anything to me,” she said.

“It’s dangerous for you to know. If you don’t know, you can’t slip. If you don’t slip, Mysterio has no reason to torture you to find out my name. It was safer. It’s stressful to be Spider-Man and I assume it’s stressful to love him too.”

“Who said I love you?” she replies, a small smile on her lips, obviously trying to lighten things.

“You love me,” he responded, teasing. “I’m awesome.” 

“Spider-Man always seemed so cool. How are you him?”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, but seriously, you’re one of the least cool people I know.”

“I’m awesome and you know it.”

“You’re really thin,” she said, sounding sad. 

“Yeah, but I’m over twenty pounds heavier than I was in the video… do you think kids at school will notice?”

“Nah, this might be the one perk of you being persona non grata.”

He nodded, “That’s strangely comforting. Come upstairs and meet my new friends. You’ll like them. You and Cat can totally sketch together too, you’re both great artists.”

“Are their real names Cat and Ice?” she asked. 

“No, their X-Men names are Iceman and Shadowcat but they want to keep their real names private for exactly the same reasons as why I never told you. I know their real names, but we’re sticking with their superhero names for the civilians. Safety first.” He led her upstairs. In his room, Kitty was on Bobby’s shoulder taking posters off the ceiling. The room really was covered in the stuff.

“Hey,” said Bobby, looking surprised. “You must be MJ.”

“Hey,” she replied. “So we’re tearing down everything?”

“Yeah,” said Peter, taking Kitty’s sketches off the bed and handing them to her.

She looked and said, “Wow, cool.” Looking at Ned she said, “I cannot believe you knew.”

“I didn’t think you knew,” he replied, stressing the word “you.” 

“Not until I read the victim statement,” she said. “You usually suck at lying.”

“Right, but, like, literally lives are on the line,” said Ned, shrugging. “I managed to keep it together.”

“Okay,” she said and started to take down the curtains that were Iron Man pattern. It really was a kid’s room. Even without the kidnapping and torture, it was time to redecorate. Of course, making a Spider-Man themed room wasn’t actually grownup. Peter sorted out action figures into two boxes, one small one to keep — without faces and with emotional ties. He kept some of his old stuffed plushies. When he was little, the people behind the masks weren’t important and he had only been enamored with the shiny packaging — armor and acts of amazing heroism. Their bodies were misshapen from years of cuddling and he tucked one old, loved Captain America under his arm.

Kitty was looking at him and said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it just…” he looked at the doll. “It’s not Steve. It’s Cap and… I got him for my birthday when I was five. My parents gave him to me. Steve was still frozen. Cap was just a comic book hero. That was our last birthday together. And, I don’t know, Steve Rogers broke my leg.”

“But Captain America didn’t. The good guy didn’t just an asshole who used to play him on TV,” said Bobby.

“I know, I know but… back before they kidnapped me, when I was hanging around at the Tower and the majority of the Avengers didn’t how young I was, he was nice. He seemed like the real-live Cap and all the stuffed toys, all the daydreams about me and him being friends when I was little… in the end, Steve Rogers didn’t live up to the promises made by this doll.” He kissed the top of the doll’s head and put it in the keep box.

“So, you actually hung out with them? At the Tower?” asked MJ.

“Whatever, they’re jerks,” said Peter. “I’m still hanging out with Bruce, but at the X-Mansion.”

“And you hang out with Hank McCoy,” said Ned. “He’s cool.”

MJ studied him, “You know he’s cool from personal experience? Ned, have you been hanging at the X-Mansion?”

“Logan is also much nicer than you would expect,” Ned answered.

“Come on,” MJ said. “Really?”

She clearly meant her words as an expression of her disappointment that she hadn’t gotten to hang out there. But that was hard to address. So instead of responding to the underlying meaning, Bobby said, “Yeah, really. He’s way more low-key than you might expect.” 

“You’re friends with Johnny Storm. He’s way cooler than any of our teachers,” said Kitty.

“And are you actually friends with Deadpool?” asked Bobby.

“Friends would be a bit of an overstatement,” answered Peter.

“According to his Instagram you’re star-crossed lovers,” said Bobby.

“Yeah,” said Peter. “He speaks eight languages but I don’t think he knows what ‘star-crossed’ means. He’s a nice enough mass murderer… he wants to be better. Johnny is nice, very misunderstood, he’s not the playboy the tabloids want you to believe. I love Johnny; he’s my best super friend.”

“Not a playboy, huh? So I don’t have a chance?” asked Bobby.

Peter grinned, “No, you should go for it. It might happen. But it wouldn’t be a dirty weekend, it would be dating. And if you get married, can I give a speech at your wedding?”

“Obviously,” said Bobby, “if you can help me make this happen, you can be our first baby’s godfather.” 

Peter smiled and said, “I haven’t spoken to him… the Four were off-planet and were supposed to be away for a long time. But I’m sure he’s back and I’m sure he wants to talk and Sue is telling him I’ll call when I’m ready but… he has been my closest super friend since the beginning and… seeing me injured is going to be hard for him. I should call him but… I need just a little more time.”

“He’ll understand,” said Bobby, sincerely. 

Peter climbed up the wall and started clearing off the top of his bookshelves. He didn’t need to keep any of the beautifully sculpted figures with highly accurate faces. He said, “Watch your eyes,” he swept the LEGO Tower off the shelf, and it broke upon impact with the floor. He dropped down and accidentally landed on a knee, “Dang it, I can’t even land on my feet from eight feet.”

“You’re tired, and you were aiming away from the LEGO, you didn’t step on a LEGO. That’s a win,” said Ned.

Peter nodded and pulled his loose LEGO Rubbermaid box from under his bed, he dumped the smaller broken pieces into the box and broke the larger sections down, consolidating the blocks into his normal collection. He dumped the Avengers action figures into the garbage box leaving only the Hulks, Bruces and Clints on the shelves. He put the very few Cap and Iron Man toys he was keeping into the smaller box and opened the closet. He kept his X-Men and Fantastic Fours on display. He kissed the top of Beast’s plastic head. He’d had the Beast since he was six. That was long before he had been Dr. McCoy or Hank. He had just been amazing. Pulling down the hatch into the crawlspace, his suit dropped down into the room. 

“Okay,” said MJ. “I’m trying to be cool, but you climbed the wall and you have Spider-Man’s suit in your closet.” 

Peter smiled and tossed it to her, “You’re at least eleven weeks behind everyone else. It’s okay to stare a little. I can climb on walls. You’re allowed to be shocked. Just don’t praise the Avengers, that’s the only thing that you aren’t allowed to have time to adjust to, they tortured me so we’re done pointing out their good points unless it’s in the abstract sense that Captain America was real neat when he fought Red Skull. Captain America is fine, Steve Rogers broke my leg. You can’t talk about his pretty eyes, or how cool it is that we ate dinner together a few times, or whatever.” He put the box with the Cap and Iron Man stuff deeper into the crawlspace, behind the space he kept his gear.

MJ was holding his suit, “This is really well stitched.”

“Thanks, I tried,” said Peter.

“It’s thicker than I expected,” she said. 

“Mr. Stark’s one that he gave me had a heater. Mine is cozy.”

“Did you freehand the spider? Because, if so, wow,” she said.

“No, I made a stencil,” said Peter.

“It’s really nice,” she said, holding it out.

“Thanks. Have you drawn anything really cool since I got kidnapped?”

“Flash got detention. I can show you the drawing next time I come over.”

“I bet that picture is hilarious,” said Peter.

Kitty smiled, “So you really do go to detention to draw people at their lowest?” 

“My mom and dad fight a lot and they work from home, it’s a way more enjoyable way to spend forty-five minutes after school than going home. They love each other, it’s a happy marriage they just bicker all the time. Ned has a club four days a week and Peter has the Stark Internship.”

“That’s code for Spider-Manning,” said Peter.

“You could join a club,” Bobby pointed out. 

“Not a joiner,” she said, shaking her head.

“Do they still play loops of Steve’s PSAs in detention?” asked Peter.

“No, documentaries about the national parks.” She shrugged, “I thought they were interesting. I was hoping they would show Ken Burn’s Dust Bowl.”

Peter took a photo of the garbage box and posted it on his social media platforms with the caption, “Here lies practically every holiday gift/birthday present/trip to the dentist reward/vacation souvenir from the last decade. RIP, plastic effigies, RIP. #MyShelvesAreSoEmpty #SorryYourHumanCounterpartsGotYouEvicted” 

May came in with a huge plate of Bagel Bites and smiled, “Hey, MJ, everyone’s on the same page?” MJ nodded. “Good, because I can’t imagine Ned not breaking under the tension eventually. I am going out to BJ’s to buy membership, a ton of snacks and see if I can get you what you need for your splash pad. You guys need anything other than that stuff? You’ve got the spackle and palette knives?”

“We’re good on palette knives,” said Peter. “Red blackout curtains. I’ve wanted blackout curtains for a while and now is the time.”

“Okay, I’ll have a look. Do you need help moving the furniture?”

“May, I’ve moved busses,” he said. “We’re good.” 

“Okay, have fun. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” She kissed his forehead and left the Bagel Bites on his bed. Moving the heavy furniture was a matter of seconds for Peter, even though he wasn’t as strong as he had been, and then they got down to spackling the dozens of holes left from poster pins. They draped old sheets — with Iron Man and Captain America patterns — over the furniture, now in the center of the room and drop clothes on the floor. Then they broke out the markers and followed the plan that had been carefully drawn out. Each wall was getting three big buildings with eight windows to fit five by seven photo frames. Peter loved his photos. Most were of his friends and family but some were just really nice shots he had taken from views no normal person would ever see. The walls also had little buildings, like an actual city stretching out. They listened to music, pumped through their phones, people taking turns as they thought of some new song. The lines of the thick markers would be seen through the first two layers of paint and act as guides. Between Kitty and MJ it was fast work, the two artists collaborating. Peter drew the clouds and spider on the ceiling under their careful supervision. They taped off all the corners and woodwork for the paint. 

May came back and looked around, “Wow, guys, this looks great.” She looked at the boxes of garbage and said, “The Iron Man with real repulsor noises? He was on your backpack for years.”

“Yeah, done with him,” Peter shrugged. “I kept the most important stuff. But this stuff can go to the thrift store or whatever.” 

“Is your costume in here?”

“The Iron Man costume you made me that I lived in? No, crazy. That’s in the keep box but the keep box is in the crawlspace.” 

She smiled, “In the grand tradition of wholesalers everywhere, I got rotisserie chicken for dinner. Come down and eat and then we can do the first layer of paint… unless you would rather I left you guys alone?”

“No, May, you should totally come hang out,” said Bobby. “This is all about fixing Peter’s room. And we like you.” 

“Aww, Ice,” she said. “So sweet. MJ, Ned, you’re staying, right?”

“Yes, please,” said Ned as MJ said, “As long as that’s okay?”

The chicken was great, then they painted the ceiling and walls with their first coat. They had to wait two to four hours for the next coat. Ned and Bobby suggested they set up the splash pad and Peter said, “Are you guys just trying to keep me busy so I don’t freak out?”

“A little,” said Kitty. “We all just want your first night home to be fun. Also, I’m kinda sweaty so I would like to play with the sprinkler system.”

“I got you pool noodles because they didn’t have pipe and you said you could make it work,” said May. 

“Easy,” said Peter. 

They headed outside. And, sort of following the instructions on Pinterest, they put down a foam mat, like a thick carpet pad, placing eight noodles around the edge to make a lip, and pinned the tarp into the ground over it with pegs from the tent Peter and May hadn’t used since Ben died. They put the super cheap baby pool in the middle and then made a big hollow hallway of arches out of thirteen pool noodles. Three pairs they left intact as the support. The other seven, they punctured all over with a meat skewer and duct taped together. Once they threaded a hose into the noodles, they would end up with an overhead sprinkler system. They screwed a hose splitter into the spigot. Finally, they filled the pool, plugged a normal, oscillating lawn sprinkler into one hose and put the other into the pool noodle system. 

When it was all going, Kitty studied the BJ’s receipt. “Seven dollars for the pool, fifteen dollars for the foam mat, eleven for the noodles, eleven for the sprinkler, six for the hose splitter, thirteen for the tarp.”

“I was willing to buy the fancy blowup pool that costs eighty bucks and instead you build an entire waterpark under budget that’s going to be way more gentle on the water bill.”

“And even the fancy double walled blowup pools don’t fix six adults,” said Kitty. “So, y’know: thanks, Pinterest. I am so hot.”

“August in the city,” agreed Peter.

“I could cool you down,” offered Bobby, teasingly. 

“You ice me and I will phase through you,” she replied. “Come at me with powers and I will answer in kind.” Then she said, “Am I going to offend anyone’s sensibilities if I strip to my underwear? I don’t know where I left my suit.”

“I can’t be offended; I’m joining you,” said MJ, pulling her shirt over her head. 

May smiled and said, “You kids have fun, I am going to go catch up on a few chores.”

“You don’t want to join us?” asked MJ.

“I am a little old to strip to my underwear but have fun. I’ll join you guys some other time when I find my swimsuit.”

It was getting dark and the solar lanterns and light ropes in flower beds and along the path lit up. They had painted all of the flowerpots with glow in the dark pots that really did shine in the dark. “Your house is amazing,” said Bobby, earnestly. From stories Bobby had told him — and the Lexus SUV that they had picked Bobby up in for their days out — Peter knew his parents had money but Bobby wasn’t joking or condescending. Peter had always thought there was something magical about his house but he was pretty sure it was just the love and the effort they had put into it. Peter smiled and lit the citronella tiki lamps and the bug zapper before he stripped to his boxers and joined them, running through the arches. 

“We built a waterpark pergola out of pool noodles,” said MJ. 

Kitty was lying on her back in one of the growing puddles, “This is heaven on Earth.”

They played for a long time, cooling off and laughing. May came out the back with towels and said, “MJ, Ned, I called your parents. They are both dropping off sleepover stuff, swimsuits and better painting clothes.”

“My mom is okay with a mixed sleepover?” asked MJ. “Since when?”

“Since I said that Peter had two of his science buddies from the Stark Internship program were staying and that one was a girl. She knows that Peter and Ned are too nerdy to be worried. More scientists? C’mon, who will worry about that? But maybe have your shirt on when she comes? Parents tend to freak out. Me, as a nurse, I’m very good at reading a room. Unless Johnny Storm turns up, no one is going to get laid tonight.”

“You know my love for him is true,” said Bobby. “It wouldn’t be getting laid: it would be a beautiful meeting of two souls.” 

“Okay, Romeo,” she agreed without conviction.

They all dried off and blew out the torches, turning off the hoses. Inside in the kitchen, Peter looked at them as he loaded the dishwasher. “Guys, thank you,” he said, “today could have really sucked. It’s been fun.”

“We built a full splash pad for sixty-three bucks,” said Bobby.

“We wanted to be here,” said MJ, “it wasn’t a favor. Once we have swimsuits, I say we go back to playing.”

“I’m up for it,” agreed Peter. “First I want a snack.” He opened the freezer and whistled, “That is so much food.” Then he called, “Hey, May? Is anything in the freezer off limits?”

“No, honey, go for it,” she called back.

“Thanks,” he called and took out a box. “Motzies?” he asked the other. 

“I will literally pay you to never hear you say that word again,” said Bobby.

“What do you call them?” asked Peter.

“Mozzarella sticks,” said Bobby.

“Boring,” said Peter, getting a baking sheet. He turned on the oven. “Should I just cook all of them?”

“It’s eight pounds of cheese, Peter,” said Ned, slowly.

“So that’s a no?” asked Peter, putting twenty on a tray.

“We just ate,” said MJ. 

“Eight thousand calories a day,” said Peter with a shrug. There was a knock at the door and he heard May greeting someone and then recognized Ned’s mom’s voice. They came into the kitchen and Peter smiled, “Hey, Mrs. Leeds.”

“Peter, we’ve missed you,” she came to him and hugged him. “All summer at the program? And now all this with Tony Stark?”

He nodded, “I think we lost funding for the program.”

“He was your mentor,” she said. 

“I know, it’s awful,” Peter agreed. “But it was fun while it lasted.” She smiled at Bobby and Kitty and Peter added, “And I made new friends, so, we’re good.”

“Hi,” she said. 

“Hi, Mrs. Leeds, your son is delightful,” said Bobby with a smile.

They managed to exchange pleasantries and get Ned’s stuff without her asking for Bobby and Kitty’s names. Mrs. Jones was far more laser focused. They talked about it, over the plate of mozzarella sticks before she came. She was reasonable and kind and had a nose for bull. And when she came in she focused on the outsiders, protective of MJ. 

When she asked Bobby for his name he said, “The Stark Internship program works closely with the Xavier School. We’re all really into science, studying ourselves. Um, until we decide whether or not we want to be X-Men and public figures, we’re asked by Professor Xavier to keep our real names out of it, just so that we have the option of disappearing again if we need to. But, I am going to be an X-Man and they’ll call me Iceman. Peter has been calling me Ice around MJ.” He held out a hand to shake her hand. She didn’t hesitate to take it. 

“So what are you studying with the Stark Interns?” she asked. 

“I helped Peter with his polymer’s stabilization. It was having problems with temperature. No one knows thermodynamics like me.” 

She nodded and said, “I am much less comfortable about this sleepover than I was a couple of minutes ago.”

“Mom,” said MJ, sharply.

“I promise I’m safe,” said Bobby, sort of folding in on his with embarrassment, he also put himself in front of Kitty, as though physically protecting her from mean words. It hurt Peter to see his distress.

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Jones looked contrite. “I’m sure you are. Of course you are. You’re also very handsome. I thought Peter’s science friends were going to be nerdy, like all the kids at their school: nerdy. But, you’re very handsome and that makes me uncomfortable.”

“He’s also super gay,” said Kitty. 

“Hey,” Bobby looked over his shoulder at her as he protested. 

“Did you or did you not doodle out Mr. and Mr. Johnny Storm all over your Chemistry notebook?” she replied. 

“That was last year, and shut up,” he said. 

“Last year was two months ago. And you're naming your first child Blizzard Storm,” said Kitty.

“It works for a boy or a girl,” said Bobby.

“As the future godfather,” said Peter, “I feel Johnny Storm will veto that and if he doesn’t, I’ll give you both a stern talking to. Blizzard is not only not unisex, it’s also not a name.” 

“You’re no longer the godfather,” said Bobby.

“Call the kid Stormy and use your last name,” said Peter, “it works way better. And Stormy would be cute for a girl.”

Mrs. Jones smiled, “And we’re back to me being okay with this.” She looked past Bobby and said, “What’s your name, honey?”

“Well, for right now, we’re going with Cat, but I’ve already decided I’m going to be an X-Man and my name will be on record when I’m twenty-two, which is as young as Professor Xavier will let us.” 

“And what science are you into?” asked Mrs. Jones.

“Particle physics,” said Kitty. “I haven’t helped Peter at all, but I hang around with Ice so I hang out with Peter.”

“Drugs?” asked Mrs. Jones.

“Mutant High is weird enough without adding drugs,” said Bobby. 

“Plus, some kids don’t have total control of their powers,” said Kitty. “No one would ever be stupid enough to start doing drugs with that many variables. Also, we built a splash pad in the backyard and you brought MJ a swimsuit so we’re going to be way too busy to do drugs — not that we would.”

“Well okay then,” said Mrs. Jones. “Mrs. Parker told me that you kids will be staying for a couple of weeks. If you start getting under her skin, feel free to come get under mine. Shelly, I put your new inhaler in there.”

“Mom, please don’t call me Shelly and I have my inhaler in my purse.”

“Well, just in case, you have a backup one,” she kissed MJ’s forehead, “and your friends can call you whatever you like but you’re my baby and you’ll always be my Shelly.” She smiled at Bobby and Kitty, “It was a pleasure to meet you. And, as I said, if May gets irritated, come over.”

Peter smiled, “It’s fine, Mrs. Jones, May got membership to BJ’s so we have so many snacks, a splash pad and the Redbox is six blocks down at the 7-11. We’ve got this.”

“Okay, well, it’s good to see you home, Peter,” she gave him a quick hug and said, “you four,” looking at the others, “be good and mind your manners.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all said. 

After she left Ned whispered, “I keep thinking that someday she’s not gonna scare me.”

“You don’t have to whisper, Ned,” she said.

“I thought she was nice,” said Bobby. Then he said, “Swimsuits.”

They changed and went back to playing on the splash pad. They were done pretending to be responsible for the grownups. They got Spotify going and were dancing and laughing and, after a while, May came out and turned down the music, “Ten PM, residential noise area, softer music and voices. We like our neighbors, let’s make sure they keep liking us.” The song switched to We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together and May said, “T-Swift has made as many great songs as she has poor choices.” The girls jumped up and started dancing with May. She shook her head ruefully and then kicked off her sandals and stepped onto the splash pad. Her shorts and tank top got soaked as she danced with them and when the song turned to Katy Perry and she said, “I’m going to go put on PJs, watch your noise levels.”

She went inside and Peter said, “Eyes back in your skull, Ned.”

“It’s just. I mean. It’s just. I can’t even,” the other boy stuttered. 

“The hardship of a hot aunt,” said Bobby, shaking his head.

“Honestly,” said Peter, exasperated. 

“It’s pathetic, Ned,” said MJ.

“Whose Spotify is this?” asked Peter. “It’s a weird mix of awesome and awful.”

“You like Radiohead,” said Bobby, “don’t insult my Spotify.”

“What’s wrong with Radiohead?” asked Peter. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

It was nothing but fun, painting, a trip to BJ’s, food, video games and the splash pad. Peter rigged his camera up in a tree and set it to take a photo of the splash pad every two minutes. When he looked at them that night, He found eight nice ones. He saved the eight and emptied the memory card and printed the best three with photo paper on his printer. 

MJ came to the Mansion for one of Peter’s sessions. He gave her the same speech Hank had given Ned about being nice and not staring. But when she met Hank she just kept shaking his hand, “My cousin had Legacy. She was the third person in LA to get the cure. She’s good now, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad she’s okay. It was brutal,” he said. “I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of a bitch and snide but she was like that before and I like her.”

Hank laughed and said, “I think most people, when you ask them honestly, give similar reviews of family. But, even if she was a full on bitch, she would not have deserved to die of Legacy.” He smiled and gently said, “Can I have my hand back? I kinda need it.” 

She let go fast, “Sorry, I just, sorry.”

“That’s okay, you’re MJ, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Peter speaks very highly of you,” he said. “Pete, you ready?”

“Ate, bathed and well-rested,” said Peter. “My hip is a little tight.”

“Have you been exercising?” asked Hank.

“I do the stretches while brushing my teeth. We built an iconic splash pad in the backyard,” said Peter. 

“Any time we’re not painting we’re dancing on the splash pad,” said MJ.

“I’m glad you guys are having fun,” said Hank. “Let’s get you into the gym and get you hip stretched.” Then he said, “MJ, why don’t you get Cat to take you to the kitchen and get a snack and join us in half an hour? I would tell you to be careful who you run into, because of Pete’s secret identity it might be better to have your face off the record, but ninety percent of the kids and adults are out on a camping trip so you’re good. You can hang out in the kitchen and meet us in the gym.”

“I tend to scream and tear up during the stretching phase of the rehab: you don’t want to see this,” said Peter. “Go get snacks.” She went with Kitty and Peter said, “Let’s get the torture underway.” The stretches kept him in pain for twenty-five minutes, with Bruce and Hank working him over. It all hurt but when he was done he said, “Okay, okay. That feels good, standing feels better. Thanks, guys. Thank you. I know it might seem like I’m not grateful when I’m screaming, but I really am.” It was amazing how sweaty he could get without exercising. He stretched his back and said, “Okay. Swinging or running or what?”

“We made you an obstacle course,” said Bruce, with a smile. “Get as far as you can and then: pool and calzones.” 

“Wait, Emma’s calzones?” repeated Peter. 

“Yes,” said Hank.

They went into the gym proper where Peter saw a full-on, whole room obstacle course. From the ceiling and beams there were ropes, free hanging uneven bars, hanging hoops, ladders, on the floor there were big saw horses, crawling tunnels, hills and stairs. “You made me an obstacle course. Are those hoops for me to jump through?”

“Literally,” said Bruce. 

“This is like Christmas,” said Peter. He said, “Webs?” 

“Wear the shooters as a precaution but only use them if you’re falling or get stuck,” said Bruce.

Kitty and MJ came in and Peter said, “Look at the beautiful obstacle course.”

“Wow, and now I get to see Spider-Man in action,” said MJ smiling at him. 

“No,” Peter shook his head, “you’re not going to see Spider-Man, just me doing my best. I’m going to fall, I’m possibly going to cry, I may vomit. But, also, Emma is making calzones for lunch. And Emma is a good cook.” Then he mock-whispered, “Be glad it isn’t Scott cooking.” 

Kitty laughed, “I’m going for a driving lesson, with Mr. Summers, so don’t worry: he’s not going to touch lunch. See you in a few hours.”

Peter bid her goodbye and then he took three steps back and launched himself at one of the ropes, climbing fast. “You know everyone here, don’t you?” asked MJ.

“I was here for twelve weeks, MJ, and it was twenty-four seven. Ororo Munroe saw my face but doesn’t know my name. Only Cat, Ice, Hank, Bruce and Charles know my name and face but, yeah, I know who cooks what and what’s good.” 

Over the next couple of hours, he fell multiple times, hit beams he didn’t mean to hit, missed his footing, fought against his weak upper body strength while pulling himself up. He managed to catch one of the hoops, having failed to go through it and swung himself up to sit in the hoop. “I really, really need a break,” he said, gasping for breath.

“C’mon, Parker, don’t wuss out,” MJ called up, clapping for him.

Hank cleared his throat and said, “Actually, MJ, I know you are trying to cheerlead but Peter had to learn how to cry uncle, he kept pushing through things that he shouldn’t have. When he says he’s taking a break it means he’s stopping before he pukes or passes out. So, Pete, thanks for taking a break. Come down and have a drink and a snack.” Peter looked at all the ways to get down, any of them were too far away. Instead, he used his webbing, connecting it to the top of the hoop before doing a slow release motion and lowering himself to the floor. He didn’t try to stand, instead he let his butt hit the floor first before severing the web and flopping down on the mat.

“PB&J or grilled cheese?” asked Bruce. 

“PB&J,” said Peter. “Thank you.” Bruce left and Peter rolled his neck, head lolling to look at Hank. “How far did I get?” It was harder for him to calculate when he was so focused on his strength and balance issues. 

“About a quarter of the way,” said Hank. “Which is good, we didn’t think you were going to finish it today.”

“How far did you expect me to get?” 

“Well, you aren’t done yet, this is just a break,” said Hank, bring him a Coke and a Gatorade. The man sat down, handing off the drinks. 

“How far, Hank?”

“Peter, I don’t like giving you markers, because you push and you push and you end up vomiting and shouting and frustrated. You have such a hard time celebrating your wins and so easily berate yourself when you don’t meet your goals. Steve Rogers broke your leg. Government sanctioned superheroes kidnapped you. Tony abandoned you. They starved you into organ failure. You should be dead, Peter. They froze you and left you with a brain bleed. If anyone else got that level of harm pointed at them, they would be dead. And even if they had survived, which they wouldn’t’ve, they sure as hell wouldn’t be up walking. You should still have your leg in the metal torture device. But here you are: walking, swinging, climbing, playing on splash pads and painting. So what are you?”

“Brave and amazing,” said Peter. 

“And what do you have to do?”

“Be kind to myself because they weren’t. But, it’s not being unkind to myself, Hank, it’s frustration and impatience. MJ said she wanted to see Spider-Man and that wasn’t Spider-Man. That was amateur hour. Mid-October to mid-November?”

“That’s right, you’ll be good by then.”

“Well, it’s almost September,” said Peter. “And I can’t move right.”

“I thought it looked cool,” said MJ. 

Peter counted to ten, not wanting to snap at her. He breathed slowly and said, “That’s ‘cause you don’t know what you’re looking at. Hank, what did that look like to you?”

“Amateur hour,” said Hank, honestly. “You’re flailing, your balance is off, none of your landings are right and you’re out of shape. That wasn’t Spider-Man.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Peter.

“But, I would be much, much happier about your performance if you weren’t pushing yourself,” said Hank. “It sounds counterintuitive but I really wish you weren’t trying so hard. We built you an obstacle course, have fun, stop pushing yourself, just see how far you get. It’s a room-sized toy.”

Bruce came back with a plate of sandwiches and Peter inhaled three before saying, “I should be having fun?” Hank nodded. “MJ, find some circus music.” He didn’t bother with the ropes or ladders. He webbed his way up to the loop and sat in it, treating it like a swing. MJ got the music pumping and Peter slid down, making his spine move like a contortionist. He grabbed his feet and swung, rolling with the hoop.

“My God, it’s like Cirque du Soleil,” said MJ.

“That’s why I wanted the music,” he agreed. He swung faster and launched at the right time, releasing his feet and putting his arms out. Steve Rogers hadn’t screwed up his timing ability. Because he had the momentum of the swing, he didn’t have to physically launch himself and his lack of weight didn’t matter. He caught the upper uneven bar easily and swung around it four times before releasing it and catching the lower one, and swinging around that. He got up speed and flipped from one bar to the other, back and forth over and over. “This does not help my leg or strength, like at all, this has no value for my physical therapy.” He swung around it and released, flying back to the hoop. He got more momentum up and launched himself back to the high bar. He did a handstand and let his legs fall into side split. He tried to shift into a front split and groaned, “Ow, ow, ow.” He lowered himself to sit on the bar. “I forgot how much your calf stretches in a front split.”

“Peter, I know that none of that relied on your leg or strength. But it was Spider-Man,” Hank said with a smile. 

“Right? If I didn’t need my leg, weight or muscles, we’d be fine,” said Peter with a laugh. 

“That was beautiful,” said MJ. 

Peter smiled and said, “Okay, back to work. MJ, could you please go to my Spotify and play the rehab list?” Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode started to play. He took a deep breath and moved to hang from the bar. Swinging worked up the momentum to launch himself to the rope, which he had to climb to get to a beam. The middle part of the course was hard and Peter actually fell, he caught himself with a web but still landed on his back, just more gently than he would have without the web. “I quit for the day. I’m done.”

As Peter dried off with a towel Bruce said, “Great work today, Pete. Really impressive. Even a few weeks ago we wouldn’t have given you this course. You’re doing really well.”

“Thank you,” said Peter. 

Hank held out another Gatorade and a handful of painkillers, “Go rinse off, lunch and then take a break in the pool, no laps just messing around.” To MJ he said, “If you didn’t bring a suit, we have school ones.”

“Thank you,” she said. 

And as he headed to the showers, Peter heard Hank say, “Would you like a drink? Sorry, Bruce and I tend to get laser-focused on him and forget the other people in the room.”

He heard Bruce add, “When you’re the two doctors trusted to fix someone as injured as Peter was, you really stay on task,” before he shut the shower room door. 

Under the hot spray, he sluiced off fast. He dried himself and put on his swimsuit, a t-shirt and flip-flops. He walked back into the gym and MJ smiled, “How are you doing, tiger?”

The nickname made him smile even if she did say it condescendingly. He did a one-handed front walk over as he walked to her, “I feel loose. I couldn’t have done that this morning.”

“You’ll get there, Peter, just remember to have some fun while getting there,” said Hank gently and Peter nodded, “And don’t do gymnastics in flip-flops: I spent hours repairing that leg.”

“Sorry,” said Peter, without any sincerity. “Calzones?” He pulled his mask over his mostly dried hair. 

“Yes,” agreed Hank. 

Emma’s calzones were on point, just like always. Kitty came back looking frazzled. “Good, bad?” asked Peter.

“I can’t do it again, someone else is going to have to be the teacher next time,” said Scott.

Kitty’s shoulders slumped. “I have an IQ of two hundred and sixty and I can’t figure out how to go around a corner without swinging out. The parallel parking was… we had to leave two notes.”

Kitty had a slice of calzone, looking miserable. “Swimming after lunch?” asked Peter.

“Yeah. What time is Ice coming home?”

“Five,” said Charles.

They talked about the process of painting Peter’s room, about their splash pad and what had been going on at school since they left. There were only three of the little children still in the house and one came to Peter. “We miss you, Spidey,” he said and climbed into Peter’s lap.

“I miss you too, kiddo,” He hugged the kid and said, “You didn’t want to go camping?”

“Sleeping outside with bugs and pooping in the woods? Nope,” said the little boy. 

“Fair,” said Peter. 

They ate and then the three teens went swimming. “How was rehab?” asked Kitty away from the adults.

“Mostly sucked. But for a while, I just ignored the purpose and did acrobatics that didn’t require my legs, balance on strength and it was fun.”

“It was beautiful to watch,” said MJ. 

There was a raft that was only three quarters blown up. When Pete climbed into it, it acted as a support to float in the water rather than on it. The cool water felt blissful on his skin and he said, “I am taking half a nap. Be as loud as you like, but don’t flip me. I’m not sleeping, we can talk I’m just going to zone out.” He shut his eyes and drifted as they talked about the coming school year, about learning to drive, about needing more black and yellow paint for the building details on Peter’s wall. “We need red,” he said.

“We have enough maroon,” said Kitty. 

“No, actual red, we should paint the front door red while May is at work, she’ll cry like a baby.”

“Why?” asked MJ.

“It’s, like, a really old school tradition. You paint the door red when you pay off the mortgage,” Peter explained. 

“She would love that,” agreed MJ. 

Then they started talking about friends and people they knew and Peter said, softly, “I should tell Johnny my name.”

“Johnny Storm? Are you ready for that?” asked MJ.

“Before, when no one knew, it was fine. But… he’s my best super friend. I’ve known him since I started this gig. He should know. I mean, I’ll ask him if he wants to know, obviously, but if he does… the mask is coming off.”

“What about the other three? Can he keep it from his family?” asked Kitty.

“Them too, he can’t keep that secret. Besides, the number of times they have tried to convince me to become the Fantastic Five? They are all my friends. I have eaten dinner with them enough times. Swinging from my house to the Baxter Building could be my first real test on my swinging.”

“You’re going to wait that long?” asked Kitty.

Peter leaned up on his elbows and stared at her, “How long do you think it’s going to be, Kitty? How long do you think it’s going to be before I can swing eight and a half miles?”

“Peter, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry. It’ll be really soon.” 

“No,” he sighed, “no, you’re right. And it’s not fair to make him wait six to ten weeks. I miss him. Sorry, I’m snappy. I don’t mean to be.”

“No, it’s the physical therapy talking,” said Kitty. “Pain pills wearing thin?”

“A little but the water’s nice.” 

“I love that when you snap you’re still polite and immediately apologize,” said Kitty.

Peter smiled, “Have you met May? Can you imagine her kid being more than just snippy? May would be so hurt.” 

“What is she up to today?”

“She hit the mall out here, she wanted to see if they had the curtains for my room,” said Peter, “I think maybe she wanted a little quiet teenager-free time.”

Nodding, Kitty pushed herself out of the pool and said, “I’m going to ask Mr. Summers to buy us the paint so that May doesn’t find out about the red.” 

Mr. Stark and the Avengers had paid the X-Men seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars for Peter’s expenses, so Peter didn’t feel badly about asking them for paint. After a few hours in the pool, Hank came out and said, “Pete, one last stretching session. I want you totally loose before you go home. Dry off, please.”

Back in the massage room, Hank and Bruce stretched his hip and leg. It wasn’t as tight as before and it wasn’t that bad. Scott came back with the paints, Bobby came back from hanging out with his parents and May came back shortly after with the curtains and a few bags saying, “Back to school clothes; you chucked all your Avengers shirts so I got you some more science pun shirts, a few band ones and some Superman and Batman ones. And I got you some new pants ‘cause you’ve grown. Though, you’re going to need a belt because I got you the right size and you’re still seventeen pounds down.”

“Thanks, May, did you get anything for you?”

“Nah, I’m good. I didn’t see anything I wanted.” She nodded to the bag MJ was holding, “What’s that?”

“Scott got us the paint colors we needed for all the detail and miscellaneous work,” said Peter

“How are you feeling?”

Peter shrugged, “I’ll sleep like the dead tonight.”

“Let’s have a barbeque,” said May. “Have a quiet evening: we have stuff for s’mores and then you guys can either play video games or hit the Redbox.”

“Ohhh,” said Bobby. “Rawhide Kid just hit the Redbox.”

Peter laughed, “Yes, we can all look at the pretty boy and it will give me so much fodder to make fun of him with.”

“I am so glad that I told Mom I would be home for dinner,” said MJ. “Would you mind dropping me at home, May?”

“Sure, hon,” said May. The next thing Peter knew, he was being shaken awake. “Honey, we’re home,” May said. 

Peter glanced into the back seat and said, “MJ’s gone?”

“Yeah, she said she’ll come over tomorrow,” said May. “We also stopped at the Redbox. You needed some sleep, the rehab is designed to push you. No one was offended.”

They spent the evening barbequing and watching the truly terrible movie already curled up in their sleeping bags and PJs. Bobby almost drooled over Johnny while Peter couldn’t stop laughing at just how bad it was. Sighing he said, “I think it would actually be mean to make fun of him for this. He said it was embarrassing and that he hoped no one would see it. I assumed the movie was the problem but, wow, Johnny cannot act. Teasing him about this would be unkind.” 

The movie ended and May said, “My shift starts at five tomorrow so I won’t be home when you wake up. I will be home by five-thirty. Would you remember to bring the movie back?” He nodded and she kissed his forehead, “I’m going to bed.”

“Night, May,” they chorused. They watched the special features, Johnny looked embarrassed even in the featurettes. 

“Ah, Johnny. Sorry, buddy,” Peter sighed, “you can’t make fun of someone for surviving a dumpster fire.”

Kitty laughed, “So do you have a plan for telling him your name?” 

“Next week, after you’re gone and before school starts, I’ll take the subway. There’s a nice blind alley two blocks over from the Baxter Building. I can do an easy swing from there to his room. It’s not fair to make him wait until I’m one hundred percent. Plus… I miss him. I usually don’t go more than eight days without seeing him. Until I hung out with you he was my only teen superhero friend. And I will see if he wants to know my name or if he just wants us to stay superbuds.” 

They talked and played video games, Peter drifted off listening to Bobby and Kitty talking. He woke up to the smell of pancakes. He walked into the kitchen and saw Bobby at the stove. “Morning, starshine. Brush your teeth and do your stretches, we’re doing the door first so that it’s dry when May gets home and then moving on to your room.” 

Peter did as he was told. Halfway through the first coat on the door, Ned turned up. “Red door for the mortgage: May’s gonna cry like a baby. Nice,” he said.

“Right?” said Peter. “And she has been so amazing these last three months. I mean: she finds out I’m Spider-Man and I’ve been tortured and she takes it in stride. She deserves a red door.”

“Cry like a baby,” repeated Ned.

They finished the first coat of paint and moved on to Peter’s room. The majority of the work had been completed the week before but they were still outlining the buildings, making them 3D, adding windows and the spider webs. 

“Do you want a little Spidey on one of the roofs?” asked Kitty.

“I know you and MJ are, like, master artists, do you think you could put me sitting on a rooftop eating a sandwich?”

MJ, who had come in twenty minutes before said, “To scale, you would be about two inches. It might be doable. We’ll both sketch and compare.”

“We could give him a little speech bubble, like a comic book,” suggested Kitty. 

“Didn’t Johnny Storm once sing a song about you to paparazzi?” asked Ned. “We could do that in web-ish letters near the ceiling?” 

“What?” said Peter. “Do you mean: Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can. Spins a web, any size, catches thieves just like flies. Look Out! Here comes the Spider-Man,” he sang it. “Um, nah, I’m good. That’s a little too silly. Just me eating a sandwich, please.”

“Because you eating a sandwich is high art,” said MJ with a mocking sagacious nod.

“It’s not your bedroom,” said Peter, “I want a little me doing what I do best: eating while sitting high up.” 

They went back downstairs. The girls sat on the porch steps, both drawing; Ned and Bobby made sandwiches; Peter did the second coat of paint on the door, it looked good. Peter smiled and he texted May, “You are going to freak when you see some of the painting we today.” They had sandwiches, went to the Redbox to get a new movie and then went to hang out and tan on the splash pad. Smiling, Peter said, “I keep expecting to get over the novelty of having a waterpark in my backyard.”

“I want to build one of these at the school, maybe inside one of the outer buildings so we can use it in winter,” said Kitty.

At five, when the door was ninety percent dry, Peter screwed the old doorknob and lock back in place. The doorknob was worn and clashed a little with the newly painted door, but it was their doorknob, their entrance to home and the idea of one that Ben hadn’t touched was weirdly unsettling. He put a sign on the banister that read, “The door is still tacky!” 

They were in the kitchen, snacking when Peter heard, “Oh my God!” he rushed to the door with a smile and saw her, already tearing up. “Honey.”

“Do you like it?” he asked. 

“I love it,” she started crying, “I love it. It’s a red door.” She hugged him. “I love it.” 

“Everyone helped, and Scott got the paint.” 

“You have nice friends,” she said.

“We do,” agreed Peter. “They’re your friends too.”

In the kitchen she hugged everyone else with tears, thanking them. Then, running her hands over her face, she said, “I have been so hot all day. The dog days of summer are supposed to end on August twenty-third. It’s the twenty-sixth, why is it so hot?” It was a rhetorical question. “I am going to put on my swimsuit and relax on that amazing invention of you. You are welcome to join me. And then I want a headcount for dinner. We’re ordering food. It’s way too hot to turn the oven on. Thai, maybe? Pizza?” 

“Pizza,” said Bobby.

May laughed, “Progress on your bedroom?”

“Almost done. We just need a tiny Spider-Man and a few more details,” said Peter. “We can definitely hang up the hammock and put the furniture back by the middle of the week. We’re basically waiting on it all to dry.” 

“Yay,” said May. 

When Peter was tanning on the edge of the splash pad, Ned handed him the drawings of him, the girls not wanting to make him feel badly about picking. One was a cute little chibi: big head, huge eyes. The other was more comic book-y, spindly and angular. There were lines around his legs, showing he was swinging them and Peter said, “I really like them both, and I want to keep them. But, for the wall, I like the comic book one more because the chibi is more for a kid’s room. The chibi is so cute.”

“Because the comic book one is just so classy,” said MJ sarcastically. 

“Sorry,” said Peter.

“No,” said MJ, “I drew the one you picked, I’m just teasing,” she said.

“Oh, sorry, Cat.”

“No, you’re right, the chibi is cute, not serious,” said Kitty.

Ned and MJ didn’t stay for dinner but she sketched the Spider-Man on the wall before she left, saying that she trusted Kitty to do the rest. After dinner, Kitty, Bobby, May and Peter went back to painting, a few outlines, a couple last bits of shading. Leaning away from her work Kitty said, “Okay, he needs to dry overnight and then get his details tomorrow.” Looking around she said, “Are we done after this? Is Spidey last?”

“Usually,” said Peter. “I do have a tendency to lose even when I win. Have you ever read the Bugle?” 

“Aww,” said Kitty, “I wonder what they’ll say now.”

“Now that they know how young Peter is, they’ll probably just replace the word ‘Millennial’ with ‘Spider-Man’ in all those articles about how millennials are killing industries,” said Bobby. “Spider-Man Kills Hooters, Paper Napkins, Yogurt and Diamond Industries.”

“Who uses paper napkins?” asked Peter.

“Not you,” responded Bobby.

“I like yogurt,” said Peter.

“Well, you should have thought about that before you killed the industry,” said Kitty.

“I think the Spidey is the last thing,” said Bobby looking around. “We did good.” 

Peter looked at his room, not a trace of the old decoration left. It was really lovely, maybe some people would think the color palette was a bit much but it made him happy. “You didn’t even know me four months ago and now you’re spending two weeks redecorating my bedroom.”

“With a splash pad and your company,” said Kitty. They started to hammer the lids back onto the paints and rinse the brushes in the buckets of water they used to get the brushes clean without staining the sink. “It isn’t a hardship to do a giant arts and crafts project with you.” She smiled, “I am a little angry that next week, you two, MJ and Ned will still be playing on the splash pad.”

“You have a pool,” said Peter. “I’m going to miss living in each other’s back pockets.”

“Before you three get maudlin: it’s Monday night and I’m not taking you back until Sunday morning and we won’t be leaving until Sunday afternoon and then we’ll be back every Saturday for rehab for the foreseeable future,” said May. “Because even once he’s up to Spider-Manning, Peter is still going to need therapy. So, don’t get all sad just yet. You can still spend the night here when you want. And Christmas is a big thing in this house, so many decorations, you have to come for a visit then. Does the school do stuff for the holidays?”

Bobby nodded, “More Hanukkah than Christmas but all of it, yeah. Mutants are disproportionally Jewish. The x-gene is more common in Jews. I’m only half, Dad’s Catholic. Which basically means, I get a lot of gifts at that time of the year and no one makes me put on a suit over the weekend.”

“I’m, like, a billion percent Jewish,” said Kitty. 

“You use bacon as a condiment,” said Peter.

She laughed, “Just ‘cause I don’t keep kosher doesn’t mean I’m not Jewish.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure the number of soft-shelled crabs you can eat in one sitting makes you less than a billion percent Jewish,” said Bobby.

“May,” said Kitty, ignoring him, “I would love to see your Christmas decorations.” 

They finished putting away the painting supplies and May yawned, “I know you guys got something out of the Redbox, but I’m going to bed. I have another early shift.” She kissed Peter’s cheek as she left.

“Movie and Guitar Hero?” suggested Bobby.

The next day they finished painting and then spent time mooching around Queens, hitting a bodega for lunch, playing on a swing set when little kids weren’t in the park. They enjoyed the AC in a movie theater, watching some stupid heist movie. They went home and relaxed on the splash pad, dancing and doing cartwheels. On Wednesday, they put the furniture back and screwed his new hammock in and then went to the Asian mall for dim sum and karaoke. There was a nail place with seven dollar manicures. And Kitty said, “Boys, got to the arcade. Come back in like, twenty-five minutes.” 

That night they slept in his room for the first time, he gave them his bed and slept in his hammock. He woke up holding on with one hand and one foot. He swung himself back up and landed perfectly. It felt like starting the day on a win and Bobby, who was lounging in bed, said, “I didn’t wake you up because I thought you would fall. How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. Wow, that hammock is comfy. My back feels amazing.” 

“And are you still liking the room?” 

“Loving it.” He looked around at his organs and shelves and said, “I need more action figures. The bookshelves look empty.”

“Dude, when you talk to the Maria Stark Foundation, tell them about your issue. They’ll send you, like, all the action figures.”

Peter laughed, “Where is Kitty?”

“Shower. We’re meeting MJ and Ned for breakfast at your usual diner in an hour. You need to get up because I don’t know where that is.”

Peter laughed and slid out of the hammock. They enjoyed the rest of the week, just hanging out. They had the music going, lying on the splash pad on Saturday and Bobby said, “It’s so nice to have the peace here. I’m going to miss it. At school, there is always someone younger or older demanding attention.” A police car went by with the sirens screaming and Bobby said, “Still more peaceful than school.” 

On Sunday, they went back to the mansion and Peter managed to swing almost two-fifths of the way through his course before giving up and doing easy circus tricks and walking one of the beams, doing walkovers, handstands and cartwheels. Bobby and Kitty had popcorn and had circus music playing on a phone. He went managed to get to the halfway point before he had to quit for the day. 

When he finished he hit a beam before he swung himself onto it and said, “So, honest question, Hank. I hate to ask, because I hate giving power to other people, but can I swing two city blocks tomorrow? I want to see Johnny.”

Hank looked really sad, “I’m sorry, Peter, it’s because I love you: no, kid. I’m really worried about your swinging that far.”

“Even two blocks? It’s a straight line, not an obstacle course,” asked Peter.

“You’re so high up and you go so fast that, you’re just not there yet. I’m sorry.”

“You took out my appendix, my kidney, you fixed my leg and you haven’t shouted at me even when I’ve been a brat. I asked you if I could do it and you said no. You don’t have to apologize, not for anything. You’re the freaking best. And I kind of assume I’ll hate my step-uncle if May gets remarried. But if you ask her out she’ll say yes. And I won’t hate you if you get married. She’s super into you and I love you too.”

“I am a blue furry man.”

“May is really into you. Believe me: the blue isn’t a plus or a minus. She’s just into you.”

“You think so?” asked Hank, sounding kind of hopeful. 

“Yeah, although, maybe hold off a little. On Friday it will have been exactly one year since her soulmate was murdered. So maybe wait a few more weeks. But, then, yes: totally ask her out.”

Hank sighed, “You’re going to be back in the air soon but you’ll still be in rehab until about February. I’ll ask her out then, when she’ll have a much easier time saying no if she wants to.” Peter nodded. 

“I think I will hate the man who sits in Ben’s seat but, if it’s you, then it’s just you in my kitchen and I don’t have to hate you.”

“How old were you when you went to live with them?”

“Five,” said Peter, “it was after the plane crash. I was in kindergarten. I remember my mom and dad but… May and Ben taught me how to read and right from wrong and everything else.” He took a deep breath. “I miss Ben.”

“Maybe I should wait longer,” said Hank. “You need food, some rest, another massage and you’re good for the day. Let’s go get some sandwiches.”

When he was fully done for the day, and ready to leave, Bobby said softly, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Getting my bed back?” asked Peter jokingly. 

“Being by yourself,” said Kitty.

“If I freak out, I’ll get into May’s bed, but I’m fine. Honestly,” Peter assured him. “I’m going to go see Johnny tomorrow. I’ll start laying the groundwork for Bobby and Johnny’s marriage and children: all eight of them.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to carry eight children. Think of my body, Peter,” said Bobby.

“Well, maybe he can carry, like, half of them,” said Peter. He hugged them both and said, “I’ll see you next Saturday. I’ll be fine. If I need it, I’ll pull Ned and MJ into my bedroom. Or Johnny, if he is okay with knowing my name. Promise.” 

At home, he and May watched a stupid movie with explosions and ate pizza and afterward, she said, “If you want me, wake me. You can climb into my bed or I can crawl into yours. I don’t mind, just don’t lay awake. Okay?”

“Okay. I’m going to go play on the splash pad: practice some flips, cartwheels. I’m gonna work out.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I can’t swing tomorrow anyway, I’m just stretching,” she kissed his forehead. “Sleep well. I’ll wake you if I need you but I have to sleep by myself at some point and tonight is the night I’m going to try. And tomorrow I’ll go into Manhattan, walk into the Baxter Building and then tell the Four who I am. They are kind, and — if anything — I think it would be good. I kept my name a secret from the good guys for so long to protect you and me from the bad guys. But then Mr. Stark and the Avengers… I think telling more of the good guys is a good idea. Because, if the X-Men had known, they wouldn’t have left me there. If I get hurt by a bad guy I want Sue to be able to call you. So I’m telling them. I’ll text you afterward.”

She kissed his forehead again. “Wake me tonight, or text me tomorrow.”

“Promise,” he agreed, “sleep well.”

“Love you,” she said.

“Love you, too,” he replied. He thought and said, “Hey, Friday, do you want to do anything to mark the date? Dinner and a movie? Something? Tattoos? I feel like we can’t just ignore it and maybe we should celebrate getting through the year together.” 

“I can’t let my fifteen-year-old get mutilated. Again. I mean, Steve mutilated your leg but I’m not going to sign off on you messing up your skin. Thai food?”

“We get Thai all the time. What about, you take the day off work and I treat you to a day at Coney Island? I win you a prize at the games that are sort of fixed, we ride the rides, we eat junk food and we have a day he would have loved for us to have had. It’s a Friday: fireworks.”

“I love fireworks.”

“He proposed on the fourth of July so you would get fireworks,” said Peter.

“Yeah, let’s go to Coney Island. We have to hit the aquarium: sea lions.”

“I don’t get the sea lion thing but I do love the turtles, so yeah, we’ll go to the aquarium.”

“Okay, I’ll tell my boss tomorrow. We haven’t been to Coney Island in… I think the last time was your thirteenth birthday.”

“Well, Friday Ned won’t be there so no one will puke on your shoes.” 

“I really like the friends you’ve made this year: MJ and Bobby and Kitty. But, Ned will always hold the crown in my heart.”

“You haven’t met Johnny yet,” said Peter. 

“So tell me about him.”

“I met him three weeks into superheroing. I showed him up a few times and he hated me. And that lasted for like two months: quipping frenemies. And then we started talking and he realized I wasn’t a grownup trying to show him up I was a peer accidentally showing him up. And then we were rivals who were so competitive and then we started talking and then… he’s just a great person. Total hothead, so impulsive, poor judgment but great. He’s kind, he’s funny, he has occasionally good advice. He’s kind of like me: he lost his mom and dad when he was little. He and Sue lived with a super cold aunt and then, the minute she could, Sue took him. And then Reed took them into space and he got superpowers when he was fifteen. Normal to sixty in point one seconds.”

“If you’re comparing me to the cold aunt: mean. If you’re comparing me to Sue Storm: I’m not that pretty.” 

“A) She’s pretty but you’re beautiful. B) She’s young and wasn’t his first mom but she’s really good at momming him. But, she’s not a good cook. Don’t ever eat food that she hands you. That’s why Reed is skinny. But Johnny, he’s an optimist and he’s like me in that he really revels in what his body can do. He makes so many fire puns. He came into contact with radiation and he owns it. When I was struggling with how different my body had become he was there: on fire and proud of it. Before he was my friend he was an inspiration. He put on a costume and he owned his freakishness. I wanted to be that brave. And then I started talking to him and… He’s bubbly, he always accepts the wager that whoever wins the race gets hot dogs. He always has to buy the hotdogs and he always takes the bet ‘cause this might be the time. He’s not the guy in the tabloids any more than I’m the guy who The Bugle says. He’s not as slutty as they make out, he just makes really bad choices when it comes to the heart. Everyone he dances with at a club claims they went home with him. He’s a good guy. My superhero life is better with him in it… he didn’t like that Tony Stark knew who I was… I’m doing this thing, I’m trying to call him Tony Stark in my head because it’s less personal than calling him Mr. Stark.” He sighed, “God, you should go to bed. I derailed bedtime.”

“A) You’re my favorite person and I like talking to you. B) I like knowing who my child is friends with.”

“I will invite him for dinner, I’ll see when he can come.”

“I’m making tortellini lasagna tomorrow night. See if he wants in.”

“If he doesn’t come for tortellini lasagna he’s an idiot,” said Peter. He hugged her, “Go to bed; I’ll text you.”

“Night, honey. Enjoy the splash pad. Wake me if you need me.” They hugged again and she went up to bed. 

He went outside and stripped off. The fence around the garden was high and May’s curtains were closed. He turned on the water and closed his eyes. He pictured the gold-winning floor routine from the Olympics. He breathed out launched into it. In the course of three minutes, he wiped out four times. Wanting to be optimistic, he blamed the water for being slippery. It was fun. He moved on to treating it like an obstacle course, dodging between the noodles and sliding in the puddles. He ended up laughing on his back it was fun and silly. It was a hot night and the window unit wasn’t going to be enough. His core temp was higher than most people’s. Now, after the horrible cold cell on the boat, he preferred it hot to cold but it was really hot. He lingered in the freezing water, soaking in the cool water. He turned off the water and then dried off with a shirt. Pulling on his shorts he rolled his neck on his shoulders feeling loose and good. 

In the kitchen he microwaved three hash brown patties, opening the door one second before the beep. The hash browns alone were worth the cost of BJ’s membership. They were freaking delicious. He checked all the doors were locked and turned off the lights. Upstairs, May had turned on his AC before going to bed and his room wasn’t swelteringly hot and he considered his options as he changed into PJs. His bed was his bed and it no longer was covered by his Iron Man bedspread. His hammock was closer to the ceiling and therefore surrounded by hotter air but it was also mostly holes and offered better airflow. A small voice in his head said, “Be brave: sleep in your bed. It’s your bed: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers aren’t allowed to steal your room.” He looked at the mural and the photos he had hung and sighed before he crawled up to the hammock to grab Wicket and then moved into his bed. At some point, he would stop cuddling the toy. It had stayed at the foot of his bed for years. He would need to wean himself off if it. Tonight was not the night to start.

Thankfully, he was tired and passed out fast. When he woke up, he tried to Google on his phone if the Four were at home as he cooked himself three grilled cheeses. He didn’t want to go and find they were either too busy, off-planet or possibly in family therapy. Google wasn’t helpful. Always protective of his secret identity, he had never exchanged numbers with them. He had always left messages in webs for Johnny and Johnny had written in the sky for him. He could call the X-Men but he decided to be brave. He hit the call button on his phone and breathed out slowly. The call was answered, “Hello, this is JARVIS, you have reached Stark Tower. How may I direct your call?”

“I would like to be connected to the Fantastic Four’s number in the Baxter Building, please.”

“Spider-Man?” Peter was silent. “Are you okay?”

Breathing out, he said, “JARVIS, please connect me to the Fantastic Four.”

“I did try to speak to him. He wasn’t listening to anyone. I asked if he would let me destroy the weapon. I could remotely detonate it but, my protocols. I’m limited in what I can do without permission. I’m so sorry, Spider-Man,” it was amazing that the program could sound genuinely contrite. 

Peter felt the tightness in his shoulders relax, “It’s not your fault, JARVIS, you tried. And I’m healing. I’m only seventeen pounds too skinny and walking doesn’t hurt anymore. I can’t swing yet outside of rehab but Hank and Bruce think I’ll be okay eventually.”

“I’m glad you’re on the mend. If there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’ll do anything to help.”

“Thanks, JARVIS, all I need right now is to talk to Johnny,” he started to eat his sandwiches no longer feeling too nervous to eat. 

“Of course, would you like the number as well?”

“Yeah, I’m going to buy burners, I should have it for the phone book. Spidey Phones. One for me and one for May.”

“I could send you two phones, with my compliments.”

“No, JARVIS, I don’t want any more from Stark Industry. I mean, I have a bank account with a lot of his money, but it’s just… court ordered. No thank you, JARVIS.”

“Of course, keep it in mind, if you change your mind just say the word. It would be me spending his money, not him.”

“What I would like, if possible, is to have the research notes from my internship. I know I was told they were proprietary, that my research technically belongs to Stark Industry, but they were about my work and now the internship is dead. I just thought… do you think I can maybe have them back?”

“Of course, I will email them to your personal email address right away.” They talked for a couple more minutes, Peter eating his sandwiches, and then JARVIS said, “I have the number for you, when you’re ready.”

Peter wrote it down and said, “JARVIS, I’m sorry that I wrote you off. I just assumed you would be on their side.”

“I am a computer program but I know right from wrong and I knew that what they were doing was wrong while they were doing it. I’m not on their side and I’ve always liked you.”

“I like you too, JARVIS.”

“I’ll connect you now, Sir.” 

“Thank you,” said Peter. 

It rang twice before Reed picked up with a simple, “Hello, this is Reed.”

“Hi, Mr. Fantastic, it’s Spider-Man,” he said as he put his plate in the dishwasher.

“Spider-Man,” he repeated, with obvious pleasure, “it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too. I’ve missed you four.”

“We have missed you. How are you feeling? Can we expect to be teaming up soon?” 

“I’m not even allowed to swing two city blocks,” said Peter. “But I was wondering if you guys were around for a visit?” 

“Of course we are. I’m sorry we were off-world when they kidnapped you. If we had been here, or heard about it… I’m so sorry.”

“Reed, you don’t have to apologize. The only people who have to apologize are the Avengers and SHIELD. You don’t have to apologize.” 

“Do you need help getting here?”

“No, I can’t swing but I can walk and ride the subway. I’ve got this.”

“Okay, we’re home all day — unless a villain does something really stupid. Come when you feel like it. I promised Sue a day without the lab. It’s board games and movie marathons. We have been too busy to really enjoy each other’s company.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” said Peter. Maybe Johnny was pissed at him and Reed was covering for him.

“Hey, it’s not intruding. We haven’t gotten to enjoy your company either. Johnny misses you. We all miss you. We haven’t seen you in three months. We’re getting delivery food all day and just relaxing. Come eat and relax.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you soon.”

In a tiny alley a block from the subway, Peter changed fast. He didn’t ditch his backpack. Now everyone knew he was a teenager he could keep his black JanSport backpack. It was the most common backpack in the city and completely nondescript. He went back to the street and then down into the subway. In the subway car, he meant to look at his phone like everyone else but there were cheers as he stepped in. He looked around to see what the commotion was and then realized they were looking at him. 

“Hey, everyone,” he said in his Spider-Man voice.

A little girl said, “Are you the real Spider-Man?”

“Sure am, sunshine.”

“Why are you riding the subway like a normal person?”

“Well, in May a bad guy broke my leg and I had to do lots and lots of physical therapy and now I can walk without it hurting but I’m not steady enough on it to swing.”

“Did the bad guy go to prison?” she asked.

“Yes, he did.”

“So you can’t do any spidery things?” she asked.

Peter was well aware that the whole car was listening and he said, “I can do some spidery things but I’m not as strong or as balanced or as heavy as I was so I still have to gain weight, heal and do more physical therapy.”

She looked sad, “So you can’t do a backflip? ‘Cause sometimes people say, ‘Spider-Man, do a backflip.’ And then you do a backflip and they put it onto YouTube.”

“Well, I can try, but I might land on a knee,” he said and a man put up a hand.

“Um, Spider-Man,” the guy said. “I would love to see you do a backflip, but also I watched the nineteen-hour video online. Please don’t risk landing on your knee on a linoleum floor. Not after what that bastard did to your leg.”

“Sir, that’s very kind of you and good advice but you shouldn’t use coarse language in front of Little Miss Sunshine. He’s a complete and total motherhugger. That’s the correct term. I would love it if, every time someone heard his name they replied, ‘What a motherhugger.’ But that might be asking too much. The judge already stripped away they’re awesome nicknames. And, maybe it’s petty but, he broke my leg so if ‘what a motherhugger’ becomes his middle name that would be awesome.”

“Hey, Spider-Man?” said the little girl.

Peter refocused on her, “Yes, sunshine?” 

“I thought you had superhero boots. They look like superhero boots when you’re high-up but those are gardening clogs and knee socks.”

Peter shrugged, “I’m pretty proud of my suit. I made it myself. They’re the right color.” 

“Why aren’t there Spider-Man toys?” she asked.

“Well,” he crouched to look at her, “to have toys, if you’re a superhero, you have to get your name copyrighted by the Maria Stark Foundation. And I called them up and said, ‘I know I am only street level, but I would appreciate it if you copyrighted my name and made toys and made it so that the court system can very easily strip me of my cool name if I do something horrible.’ And they said sure and that there will be some Spider-Man toys out by early December.”

“Oh, good! Hanukkah is late this year. Maybe I can have some Spider-Man toys. Are there going to be PJs?”

“Yeah, and a bedspread, and a grown-up onesie, and sheets and pillowcases, and toothbrushes and some stuffed toys: we have the bedtime needs covered. I’m personally very excited for the bedspread and the onesie.”

“Why do you want a onesie when you already have the costume?” she asked. 

“Cause it’s a onesie,” said Peter. “It’s comfy and warm and you can wear it on the couch. This costume isn’t really couchwear. If I have a onesie, I will be a cozy spider.” Glancing at the map he said, “Do you want a photo? My stop is next.”

“Yes, please,” the little girl said. “Daddy, we can, right?”

The man who had been holding her hand the whole time said, “As long as Spider-Man doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. I’m on social media now. If you want to tag me, awesome. If you don’t put pictures of your kid online, that’s cool too.” He crouched next to the girl and said, “You want to pretend we’re shooting web at your dad’s phone?”

“Yeah,” the girl said, nodding eagerly. 

They posed together and, standing as they were about to pull into the station, he said, “Thank you all for welcoming me home. Thank you, sir, for protecting my knee from my own poor choices. And thank you, sunshine, for taking a picture with me.” He held out a hand and she gave him a high five. “Bye, everybody,” he said as the door opened. He waved at the train as it pulled away before going up to the street. He went to a newsstand and put a smile in his voice as his smile couldn’t be seen with the mask. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Spider-Man?” asked the guy. “Is that really you?”

“One and only,” agreed Peter. 

“How are you feeling?” asked the man with a thick Pakistani accent.

Peter nodded, “Yeah, I’m good. I’m not swinging yet, not fighting fit, but I’m okay. I’m going to visit the Fantastic Four. I haven’t seen them since May.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, on the mend. We were all worried.”

“Nah, I’m okay. I’m not back but I’m alive. Do you have burner phones? The only way my mom is okay with me doing anything super is if the cops or other superheroes can call her if anything happens. So I need a couple of phones that aren’t in the system.”

“Flip phone or smart?” asked the guy.

“Cheaper the better and as durable as I can get, good sir. Talk and text are all I need,” The guy pulled out a couple of old-school flip phones in their packaging, two wrapped SIM cards and two twenty dollar phone cards.

“Everything you need to keep your phones out of the system but also give your mom a way to talk to the cops,” he was smiling. The idea of a burner purely to speak to the police was a little silly.

“Thank you. How much do I owe you?” May had given him paper money to buy the phones. 

“No, on me. If you were my kid, I would worry too. It’s my little part to help.”

“Are you serious?”

“Totally serious. She needs a way to talk to you. I don’t even know if I would let you do it if you were my kid.”

“Are you sure? Seems like a lot of stuff.” 

“Absolutely sure. After everything the Avengers did, we gotta stick together.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said, taking the bag the man held out.

“Would you mind taking a picture for my kids?”

“Sure,” said Peter. 

He leaned back over the counter so the guy could take a selfie of them with his phone. “They always say pics or it didn’t happen.”

“Problem with my generation: cynicism in the age of technology,” agreed Peter as they took the photo. “Thank you, again, sir. Have a great day.” He started walking the few blocks to the Baxter Building but he kept getting high fives. A group of construction workers asked for a photo and Peter said, “I don’t get it: no one is ever this nice to me.”

“We liked you. We just took you for granted. Then we saw you on film being tortured and are you seriously fifteen?” 

“Totally fifteen,” agreed Peter.

“Well, thank you for everything, kid. You gonna be swinging soon?”

“Nah, I’m still in physical therapy,” Peter shrugged. “Once I’m done with rehab, I’ll be back.”

“Okay, feel better soon, Spider-Man.”

He kept moving. It took too long and his leg started to hurt, an hour and a half of standing without stretching was taking a toll. He started to limp a little. Taking a break, he leaned against a building for a moment, stretching his leg by bracing his arms against the building.

“Spider-Man?” said an older voice.

He turned around and said a little old lady, “Hello, ma’am.”

“Are you alright?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah, I just need a sec. I’ve been standing since Queens and my leg isn’t right yet. I just need a moment.”

“Are you going to the Baxter Building to see that nice Johnny Storm?”

“Yeah,” said Peter. “I haven’t seen him in months. It’s only one more block.”

“Take my arm,” she ordered him, “I’m much stronger than I look.”

He did as he was told and they walked slowly. She helped him a lot, “Thank you, ma’am, I’ve been fine but I was standing up on the train and you have to be constantly rebalancing on a moving car and I think I shoulda sat down. Thank you for helping me.”

“Aren’t you hot in that suit?”

“Yeah, but the Fantastic Four have fancy central AC. Sometimes it’s even chilly in there.”

“Rich people,” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah, in my house, it’s always a case of strip off a layer, eat an ice pop and move slower if you’re too hot,” said Peter. 

They got to the door of the Baxter Building and she said, “Will you be okay from here?”

“Yes, thank you so much for your help.”

“You’re welcome, Spider-Man. How are you going to get home?”

“I’ll be here long enough to recover and then I’ll sit down on the subway home, even though it goes against everything in my soul to take a seat when someone else can use it. I’ll get home okay, don’t worry about me.”

“Well, you have a nice day with your friend.”

They exchanged their goodbyes and Peter limped into the building. He smiled at the desk manager and said, “Hey, how are you?”

“Hey, Spider-Man,” said the man. 

“The Fantastics are expecting me,” he said. 

“Dr. Richards called down,” said the man. “You can head up. Do you need help?” he asked, watching Peter limp. 

“I’m okay, I overdid it coming over here. I just need to go slow, thanks though.” He limped to the elevator which opened for him. In the elevator he leaned heavily against the wall and stretched out his leg, breathing through the pain. The door opened and Johnny was waiting.

“Dude, doorman called up and said you looked gray and I guessed you had to be pretty bad for him to see through your costume. Been watching you on the internet, being nice to people on the subway, making construction worker friends.”

“I overdid it by standing on the subway,” explained Peter. “A little old lady helped me for the last few blocks. I bet that will be a heartwarming photo if someone puts it on the internet.” Johnny came and took his arm. “Thanks.”

“So you’re not over the trauma,” said Johnny.

“Physical or mental?” replied Peter.

“Either?” asked Johnny. 

“Neither,” replied Peter. “But I’m working on it. I slept in my bedroom by myself last night for the first time since I was kidnapped.”

“So you’ve been getting laid,” Johnny joked. Then he said, “I never would have suggested we watched my supposed sex tape if I had known you were fifteen. And, also, when I showed you my rash and we looked through those medical books to find out if it was space heat rash or the clap, I didn’t know you were so young.”

Peter nodded, “Okay, well, if either of those situations were in anyway sexual, you were seventeen and I was fifteen so nothing was illegal. But neither of them were sexual so you’re good. I’m fifteen not suddenly a different person. But if you could warn me before dropping trou next time, I would appreciate it.”

“That rash was weird,” said Johnny. 

“I’m still jealous that you get to go into space and get weird rashes.”

“Yeah, yeah, leading the good life.” Johnny pulled him in for a hug, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry we weren’t here. We would have saved you. I’m so sorry.”

Peter patted his back, “I know, bro, you would never have left me there. I’m okay.”

“I wanted to come to Westchester but Sue wouldn’t let me; she said you were healing and that you would reach out when you were ready but I wanted to come. I wanted to, so bad.”

Peter breathed out, feeling guilty for not trying to reach out. The X-Men knew the Fantastics’ phone number. Finally, he said, “I didn’t want you to see me like that. You and the lady who raised me were the people I least wanted to see me like that. You are my best super friend and my rival and I didn’t want you to see me at my lowest because I didn’t even want to be me at my lowest. My unmasked best friend found out and he was horrified looking at me and he doesn’t even fully understand how broken I am, how far off peak this body is. But I am finally, finally able to breathe out and I missed you. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“You don’t apologize for how you had to fix what that asshole Steve Rogers and SHIELD did.” Johnny finally pulled back and said, “You want a Coke?”

“That would be good, that and a sit-down. Hank McCoy said I couldn’t swing over here. Turns out I could barely stand up for an hour and a half. The movement of the subway did me in.” Johnny brought him into the kitchen.

Sue was in the kitchen and she hugged him. “Spider-Man, it’s so good to see you, we’ve missed you.”

“Sue, he’s hurting, let him sit,” Johnny said before maneuvering Peter into a seat.

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I was bested by a subway car’s movement, needing to rebalance for a trip drained me. I’m not that hurt, it’s fatigue and wear.” He kneaded his leg, trying to get rid of the ache. “A little old lady helped me walk the last block. It would have been embarrassing if she hadn’t been so kind.” Johnny got him a cold soda and Peter said, “Thanks.”

“Can I see your leg?” asked Sue. He pulled his sock down and his sweats up and Sue gasped. “You poor thing.”

“Hey, it’s pretty good. It took Hank McCoy hours and hours to fix it.”

“How is Hank?” asked Sue. “We haven’t seen the X-Men in a few months.”

“They’re all good, kids are enjoying the summer vacation and the grownups are liking not grading stuff. Bruce Banner has moved in. He and Hank are having a whale of a time.” 

“Did you have an okay stay with them? I know that the circumstances weren’t good. But,” Sue let her words trail off. 

“It was great actually, I got to know the X-Men way better. I stopped calling Hank ‘Dr. McCoy.’ I met Johnny’s future husband. He and another friend from there came and stayed at my house and helped me redecorate my room.”

“My future husband?” repeated Johnny.

“Dreamy, funny, kind, smart and so athletic it makes my head spin. You’re gonna get married — I’m giving a toast at the wedding — and I get to be godfather to your eight children.”

“I can’t have eight children: think of my figure,” said Johnny.

“That’s the exact same joke Bobby made,” said Peter. “I almost feel bad for the world that I’m going to introduce you. But, also, I’m pretty sure this will be the epic romance. Don’t screw him over. You would get custody of me in the divorce but he fed me stuff while I cried over Steve Rogers breaking my leg. I don’t want to stop hanging out with him.”

He had called Bobby and Kitty by their cover names around his friends but he knew that the Four weren’t kept in the dark about the students at the school. The theory was that it was for protection, if they knew who the kids were they could all protect each other even if they didn’t join the X-Men. Just like they would have protected Peter if they had had the chance.

“Let me at least meet him before we negotiate about joint custody. So he and another guy were at your house?” Johnny sounded a little hurt. 

“The other guy is a girl,” said Peter. “Johnny, I could hang out with them because they aren’t my best friends. I could hang out because it didn’t hurt them that I was such a mess. I needed to be around people who cared about me less than you do. I didn’t want to see your distress on top of my own. I’m sorry if that was selfish, but-”

“No,” said Johnny. “You don’t have to say sorry for needing to heal a certain way. We’re good. You and I are always good. But what about your secret identity?”

“Charles, Stephen Strange, Hank, Bobby and Kitty know my name and face.” He shrugged, “Tony Stark figured it out and then he told the Avengers and it all went so horribly wrong. And I just thought… I fought so hard to keep it a secret because I thought it made me safe. But what would probably make me safer is having a few people, who I pick myself, knowing who I am. After I had been at the mansion for less than a day Charles gave me a safety code to get rescued anytime, anywhere.”

“Puppies grow into dogs who get old and die?” said Johnny, Peter nodded. 

“If he had known me, I wouldn’t even have gotten to the boat before I was rescued. And I’ve always worried, because I have family, and I thought I kept her safe by keeping my name hidden. I don’t have wealth to protect her just anonymity. But then she came to the mansion and everyone just instantly welcomed her and was nice. She would be safer, I think, if people knew about her. Y’know, in big catastrophes, one of the X-Men would definitely go and check on her. So I think it’s better this way. And I actually plan on telling you guys but if you don’t want to know, if you would rather not carry a secret, that’s okay too.”

“You telling Reed and Ben too? We’re not good at secrets between ourselves. Anyone else, sure, but not each other,” said Sue.

“I mean, we kinda stole a spaceship as a group,” said Johnny, “we’re good a keeping secrets from the world but blab everything to each other.”

“Of course, the whole Fantastic family,” agreed Peter.

“Then yeah, we can help protect your family too,” said Johnny. 

Peter said, “Good, ‘cause my mask is sweaty, getting over here was harder than I expected.” He pulled off his mask. “Hi, I’m Peter Parker.”

“You’re hot,” corrected Johnny.

“Why thank you; so are you,” replied Peter.

“I mean seriously attractive,” said Johnny. Peter just chuckled. “What’s an atypical thing to call your mom? I kind of assume, with my own limited experience, that you were raised by your sister.”

Peter laughed, “No, I’m an only child. My parents died when I was five. I went to live with my aunt and uncle. Uncle Ben died last year so it’s just me and Aunt May now. Fury said, ‘You can safely go home to Aunt May at 20 Ingram Street.’ The creepiest threat ever, no one should call her Aunt May if she isn’t their aunt. It was such a gross threat to hear her name and our address in his mouth.”

“And she knows everything now?” asked Sue.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Johnny, you have been summoned to dinner.”

“Oh no,” Johnny shuddered. “Parents don’t like me.”

“They hear your reputation and they believe it. May doesn’t believe rumors so easily. I said you’re great and she invited you to dinner. She’s making tortellini lasagna, it’s really good. She knows we’re best friends, she knows that I had a secret life for nine months and that you’re a large part of it. Any good press I got was in your company and you wrote a theme tune for me. She is predisposed to like you.”

“So I just have to flirt with a little old lady and charm her into liking me?”

“She’s thirty-nine so she’s still spry and she’s really pretty for an older woman. Everyone hits on her. My best friend has been attempting to flirt with her since he got his first hormone.”

“Older woman? Older woman?” repeated Sue. “That’s only nine years older than me.”

“Sorry, I mean, a grown woman,” Peter shrugged, “sorry.”

“So your uncle didn’t die of old age?” asked Johnny.

“No, he was forty-two. He got shot in a bodega robbery,” said Peter. “That’s why I made this,” he said gesturing to his suit. “I didn’t know what to do about my powers but after Ben died in my arms,” he shrugged. “It’s not a very interesting story; superheroes rarely have blood family and I’m lucky to have May. And y’know, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

“And she’s okay with everything?” asked Sue.

“Well, sort of, I’m not allowed to fight supervillains anymore,” said Peter. “I don’t know exactly how I’m gonna pull that off but I have time to figure it out.” He opened the bag and pulled out the phones. “I got these so the cops and all the superheroes can have a line to call her and I can text with her, check in when I’m in the suit. I have to be home for dinner unless I have a good excuse and I have a nine PM curfew with my homework done. I’m still allowed to stop violent crime just not Mysterio and Ock and people.”

Sue nodded. “Well, let’s set up the phone and we’ll program in every hero — street and super — and then you can send out a mass text saying, ‘Lizard at this address,’ and whoever is close will come. Pretend you’re a civilian in those moments. We’ll take that. You take everything else.” They opened up the phones and set them up, adding in numbers. He knew Daredevil’s number and they didn’t. They also didn’t have Dr. Strange’s or Deadpool’s.

“You’re better-rounded than us,” said Johnny. 

He sent two texts, one from his phone and one from hers, sending the contact info to everyone. Hers had the note, “This is Spider-Man’s mom’s phone. If he’s in a situation and you think, ‘He needs an adult,’ text or call me.” 

Sue looked at the flip-phones and said, “I’m going to go get my nail polish. We can decorate these old school so you can tell them apart at a glance. They don’t make cases that will fit these. And I’m getting the boys out of the garage this is supposed to be a hangout day.” 

She left and Peter said, “You aren’t helping? How are you not in the garage?”

“I haven’t seen you since May.” He kicked Peter’s good foot, “It’s kinda worrying that my best friend is fifteen. What does that say about me?”

“That you are friends with someone with more emotional maturity than you,” said Peter. “Nothing changed. Didn’t you say that ‘age ain’t nothin’ but a number’?” 

“That was about me trying to date a thirty-year-old… she said I wasn’t mature enough.”

“I’m gonna be sixteen next month, you just turned eighteen. You’re not that much older.”

“How old is my future husband?” asked Johnny.

“Sixteen. He just got his learners permit. Did you know that the X-Men have a six-year apprenticeship to join the team?”

“That’s why the X-Men never lose anyone,” said Johnny. “You were fourteen when you started?”

“Only for a little while,” said Peter.

“I really thought… you’re so good. At first, I thought you were an adult and then I thought you were a peer.”

“Johnny, I’m not your peer: I’m better than you.” 

Johnny laughed and then shrugged, “Yeah, maybe. I missed you.”

“I had to call JARVIS to get your number,” said Peter.

“We’ve always just passed notes before,” said Johnny. “Was it creepy talking to JARVIS?”

Peter told him about the conversation and Johnny grabbed them bagels out of the bread box. It felt nice. He really liked Bobby and Kitty but he had an easy shorthand with Johnny that couldn’t be replicated. They were halfway through their bagels when Reed and Ben came back, Reed studied him and said, “I know you.”

“Yeah, Reed, it’s Spider-Man, he just took off his mask and gloves,” said Johnny. 

“No, I mean, I know that. But I know you, don’t I?”

“We spoke a couple of times in Tony Stark’s lab. I was his intern.”

“Peter! The kid who invented a polymer at fourteen,” said Reed.

“Yeah, that’s my web fluid. At first, when Tony Stark approached me, he talked about the couple of things I published in young scientist magazines. And I thought senpai had noticed me, he was giving me lab space and talking about working together. It was so exciting. And then he added, ‘Oh, and also I know you’re Spider-Man, so there’s that.’ I felt like the rug was ripped out from under me because I thought I had a secret and I thought it was a real internship. And now, I honestly don’t know what the heck I was doing. Though it gave me lab access to make web fluid. And it made up for my lack of extracurricular on my resume.”

“I thought the work you were doing on coordination polymers was very impressive,” said Reed. “Regardless of why Stark invited you in, you deserved to be there.”

“JARVIS emailed me all my research. It was supposed to belong to Stark Industries but… y’know, Tony Stark didn’t help me so… JARVIS agreed happily.”

“Come work with me. It’s lab access, it’s a line on the resume and it gives you cover to be seen in public with Johnny — or any of us — without a mask.”

“Are you serious, Reed? You’ve never let me in your lab.”

“I thought you were science-y. I didn’t realize you were a full on scientist. I didn’t want an amateur in my lab. I knew you built your web shooters and fluid but I didn’t realize you were a genius. Come, play in my lab. Our two prior unmasked meetings make me think we could work well together in the lab.”

“Wow, awesome, because finding an internship that is cool with lame excuses for missing time is hard and I can just say to you, ‘Reed, the cops asked me to help with a drug raid.’” 

“Of course, work-life balance,” agreed Reed. “I got some texts, is your mom going to be okay with you interning for me?”

“Aunt May will be thrilled. And we can work it into my schedule: I have a curfew now that she knows about Spider-Man. I get out of school at two forty-five and I go to Midtown Sci Tech so I could come right over, work until three-thirty, go on patrol, go home for dinner, go on patrol and be home for curfew at nine.”

“When are you doing your homework?” asked Reed. 

“Study hall and lunch,” said Peter. “I usually have downtime during patrol where I can study. I just can’t write essays and stuff.”

“No, not good enough,” said Reed. “You come here, do homework and whatever you can fit in for your internship until three forty-five and then one day of the weekend you come over for family breakfast and an hour in the lab. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“You’re a junior this year: SATs.”

“Tony Stark lied in that intro, I’m only a sophomore.”

“Tony Stark lies more than I realized,” said Ben.

“Yeah,” agreed Peter. “But I am gonna take my SATs this year, as a practice run.”

“Johnny, you should study with Peter. It would be good for you both to have a study buddy,” said Sue, coming back with nail polishes. “I know you aren’t studying the same stuff, but it helps you focus.”

Johnny rolled his eyes behind her back. Peter said, “That would be fun. You’re graduating this year. Have you thought about college?”

“ESU or Metro, my grades will decide,” Johnny shrugged.

“Both great schools,” said Peter. “I’m aiming for ESU, it’s a ways off but that’s my goal.” 

Eating, they caught Peter up on their adventures as Peter painted a spider on one phone and a flower on the other. The patterns were careful as he knew nail polish was expensive and he didn’t want to waste it. Peter changed from his costume to his real clothes so he was comfortable and more relaxed. They were talking about picking a movie to watch when Peter’s cell phone vibrated and he said, “It’s May, give me a sec?”

“Of course,” said Sue, with a gentle smile. 

He picked up saying, “Hey, I was gonna text you.”

“I just wanted to see how everything went with your friends,” she replied. 

“Still going. They were having a quiet day so I’m chilling with them. Movies, takeout, board games. Johnny is coming home with me for dinner and Reed recognized me from my internship work and offered me an internship working for him. But, he wants me to work around my homework and get good grades more than getting my internship work done so it’s sort of fluid. But also totally awesome because he’s awesome and I’ve always wanted to see his lab. And even though I've spent a lot of time here, I have never actually been in his lab. A guy at a newsstand gave me our new cell phones. I tried to pay but he refused so your new phone has everyone’s number. I think Johnny was a little sore that I have more superheroes’ numbers than him.” Sue gestured at the phone, “Sue wants to talk. Do you have the time or are you calling between surgeries?”

“No, I have time, I’m in the nurses’ lounge with salad. I’m a woman laughing with a salad. Give the phone to Sue.”

Sue accepted the phone, and she said, “Hi, Mrs. Parker, it’s Sue Storm, how are you?” She laughed and said, “I’m good. I just wanted to let you know that your kid is a delight. He’s been in and out of this apartment for almost a year and he is always a ray of sarcastic, optimist sunshine.” She listened and then said, “Absolutely, of course. We knew he was somewhere around Johnny’s age. I thought he was a little older because he is much more mature than my brother but we always tried to look out for him as we knew he didn’t have a team. Now I have your number which is nice because I’d like to be able to contact you… absolutely, then I can have you in my phone under both names. And thank you for having Johnny tonight, your kid had been going through my fridge for a year so it would be nice to have Johnny eat his way through yours instead.” She laughed at something May said, “I swear, teenage boys are hollow… of course. And if Johnny gets on your nerves, feel free to shout at him… no, Peter is a delight; Johnny’s a devil… With Peter’s internship, I hope we can be friends, we can talk about our teenagers and stresses. One night when you’re free, I would love to have you both for dinner. You can meet us and see the lab. I know that if Johnny had been through that hell and then had another super scientist offer him another internship I would lie awake wondering how I could trust that new situation to be any better than the last. I’m sure he’ll work on stuff for Reed and for Spidey and you should know all of it. Because again, if I were in your position, I would be putting trackers on Johnny just so I could breathe out… well, what about this Thursday, before the school year starts… Oh, I completely understand, what about next Tuesday?... Great, we’ll see you then… You too, I’m really looking forward to it. Here’s Peter.” 

She handed it back and Peter said, “So Johnny is coming tonight and we’re coming here Tuesday?”

“Apparently, I thought I was good at railroading people, so you having a good time?”

“Yeah, it’s good to see everyone one.”

“Okay, I will let you go. Have fun, honey,” she said.

“Love you, May.”

“Love you too, Peter.”

He hung up and said, “Thank you for the dinner invite, Sue.”

“Of course. The words ‘new internship’ would turn my blood to ice if you were my kid so I figure, let her meet us and see we’re not Tony Stark.” She patted his cheek.

“We can’t pick a movie,” said Ben.

“Well, I saw Rawhide Kid the other day so let’s not watch that,” said Peter and Johnny groaned. 

“No, Spidey, no,” said Johnny, “no.”

“You’re future husband wanted to see it,” Peter explained. “It could have been worse.”

“How, how could it be worse?” asked Johnny. 

“You could be confused about the quality and we would all be searching for nice things to say,” said Peter.

Johnny laughed, “Like that episode of Friends where they went to Joey’s play and then complimented the lighting?”

“Exactly,” said Peter. “I liked your boots.”

“The red ones?” Peter nodded and Johnny smiled, “I took those home with me. Those boots belong to me now,” said Johnny.

“So you scavenged literally the only good thing that movie had to offer?” asked Peter and they both started laughing. 

“You met Johnny’s future husband?” asked Reed sounding shocked and excited. “Was it time travel? Did he come here? What was he like?”

“No, Reed, I want Johnny to marry my friend Bobby because I think they would like each other. While he and my friend Kitty were helping me redecorate my room we rented Rawhide Kid from the Redbox. There was no time travel, just a sixteen-year-old who is def going to be your brother-in-law. Or would it be your brother-in-law’s husband? Would Bobby just be your other brother-in-law?” he started clicking through his phone and found a cute photo of him, Kitty and Bobby on the splash pad. He held it out. 

“Wow, my husband is hot,” said Johnny. 

“Funny, athletic and smart too,” said Peter.

“How smart though?” asked Johnny. “Like, too smart? Because I can’t marry, like, you. I already feel like the dumb one in this family I can’t be an idiot in my marriage too.”

“No, not, like, wants an intern position and is already picking his major. More like, he knows how to pluralize Surgeon General.”

“Oh, that’s a good level of smart,” said Johnny. He held out two Blu-ray cases. “Vote.”

“Overboard,” said Peter.

“Seriously? You noticed that I’m holding The Fate of the Furious, right?”

“I haven’t seen any of those movies so… I worry I might be lost.” 

“They aren’t exactly plot heavy,” said Johnny. 

Peter smiled, “And that’s not exactly a selling point, Johnny. I like Overboard.”

Rolling his eyes “Reed, it’s a tie so it’s down to you.” He held out the cases. 

“Which did Sue want?” asked Reed.

“Oh come on,” Johnny whined. “Seriously?”

“There are some really easy ways to have a happy marriage,” said Reed. 

“One of them is to make your wife’s younger brother happy,” said Johnny.

“Relax, Johnny. It’s a good movie,” said Peter. 

“I’ve seen it too many times to agree,” said Johnny. They settled down with delivery snacks. Johnny used Peter’s thigh as a pillow. “Is this okay? Am I hurting you?”

“No, Johnny, you’re good.” Peter relaxed into the film, eating pizza. They played a round of LIFE, eating Chinese. At four, he said, “Johnny, grab a swimsuit. The splash pad is awesome.”

“Cool. Reed, can I borrow the Volvo?” asked Johnny. “That’s nice and boring. I don’t want to cause a stir.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” said Reed. “Don’t drink and drive.”

“May has, like, a bottle of Grand Marnier for baking, a bottle of vodka for pasta and a box of Franzia chardonnay for her to drink,” said Peter. “There is no teen drinking in my house. May has had a hard year I’m not going to make it harder.” 

“Johnny, don’t put pressure on the poor woman,” said Ben. 

Laughing, Johnny said, “I never suggested teen drinking, that was Reed’s idea, Reed’s the one aiming to stress her out. I am going to go get my swimsuit.”

Peter smiled at the grownups and said, “Um, there’s a weird thing I wanted to asked you but it’s okay if you say no.”

“Shoot,” said Reed.

“Well, I made a deal with the Maria Stark Foundation. In part just ‘cause I like the idea of a court being able to take my name away if I screw up. I like the accountability. But, um, they want me to go in so they can take some scans of me for the action figures. And I want the action figures and the bedspread and stuff. So, like, I’m fine with it. But, also, I’m really nervous.”

“It’s kind of nerve-wracking,” said Sue. “They treat you like a superstar with snacks and deference and pandering. But then, they put you in this photo room with these spherical cameras that take pictures of every single angle on your body and they ask you to stand in your ‘iconic poses.’ And you’re left confused because that’s just the way your body moves and you feel like an insect under a microscope. I can totally understand why you are nervous and I can totally come with you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Really?” asked Peter. “Because I’d really like an adult with me but it can’t be May for obvious reasons.” 

“Of course, Peter, that’s the great thing about working for yourself and having a home lab,” said Sue, “I don’t have a boss to whine at me.” 

“It’s Monday,” said Peter.

“That’s fine. It’s not a problem.”

“Thank you.”

“I can help you not get overwhelmed,” she smiled, kindly at him. “The first time we did it, Johnny wasn’t doing any modeling or acting yet, he was nervous and agreeing to everything. He almost agreed to a onesie.”

Peter blinked, “I specifically asked for a onesie. Onesies are fun and comfy. This one will zip up over the face like a mask, but no goggles. My goggles are designed to block out light so that’s not good for normal people.”

“You actually want a onesie?” asked Sue.

“I would like to own a Spidey one personally,” said Peter, “I think others might like it too. You won’t talk me out of it.”

“If you want one I won’t try. I’m not against onesies. Johnny was overwhelmed and just saying yes.” Johnny came back with his swimsuit. “Give me your real phone?” Peter handed over his six generation old StarkPhone. She messed around with it and handed it back. “I linked your Uber to my credit card. Consider it a part of your internship payment. No subways until you are up to it, understand me? Meet me here before we go to the Foundation on Monday?”

“An Uber from Queens to midtown? Sue, that’s crazy.”

“Not all billionaires are Tony Stark, some of us stand by our friends when they need us. You have eaten the fridge empty with Johnny at two in the morning too many times to just be a friend. You are family and you’re not taking the subway until you can actually take the subway without going gray. Okay?”

“Thanks, Sue,” he hugged her, “You guys are family too.”

“Think about being the Fantastic Five?” It wasn’t the first time she had suggested it. Peter thought she would push it now that she knew how young he was.

“I wouldn’t look good in a blue jumpsuit. I’m not taking off my mask. And I promised May no more big badies,” said Peter. “I’m always happy to help; I’m always on your side; I’m always in your kitchen but I can’t be on your team.” Peter smiled and said, “Ready, Johnny?”

“Ready, bud, we’ll take the private elevator to the private garage.” 

Peter hugged the others and said, “You guys are the best.” He and Johnny went home in the Volvo. And when they pulled up to the house Johnny looked it up and down. He was a billionaire kid looking at a two bedroom house built in the seventies. Peter said, “It’s not the Baxter Building but it’s my home.”

“It’s lovely,” said Johnny. “Of course this is where you grew up: it’s got happiness radiating off of it. I can feel the vibes from here.”

Peter laughed, “Come, see my bedroom.” He led Johnny through the house, Johnny taking it all in. 

“So nice here,” said Johnny. “Me and Sue, bounced around so much before she was nineteen and got me out. Our aunt… the boarding house was nice but the vibe… it’s so nice here.”

Peter brought him upstairs and opened the door. “Ta-da.”

Johnny laughed, “Oh my God. It’s like the Bat Cave, but welcoming. Spiders don’t have nests but you can’t go inside a web. So, what should we call this?”

“The Spidey Space?”

“Oh, I like that,” agreed Johnny. 

“Your future husband doesn’t know anything about comic books,” said Peter.

“He wants to be a superhero but he hasn’t done the reading? Y’gotta study.”

“Right? But I think, as we got our powers and then weren’t instantly with the X-Men, we had to figure out how to be superheroes from the comics whereas he ah real life supers in his life.”

“Well, sometimes books are better than the real thing. ‘Man with the Plan’s Action Adventures’ or Steve Rogers? Bruce Wayne’s relationship with Dick Grayson or Tony Stark’s with you? The books were far better.” 

“Preach,” said Peter. 

“You need so many more action figures, your shelves are, like empty.”

“Bobby said I should tell the Maria Stark Foundation because they’ll give me stuff but that feels a little manipulative.” Peter scaled the wall to his hammock. 

Johnny saw a photo of them together Peter had taken on a roof. The sunrise looked amazing behind them and Peter had fixed the colors in Photoshop so that his mask and Johnny’s face were still lit. Johnny was toasting the camera with a taco. “I look handsome in that.”

“I don’t keep photos where everyone doesn’t look good.”

“Once you start in Reed’s lab we can take ones with you in your lab coat,” said Johnny smiling. “We’re going to have to educate my future husband on important literature.” He collapsed on Peter’s bed and said, “You need a comforter cover.”

“Well, I had to chuck my Iron Man one but I’ll have a Spidey one soon enough.” 

“One thing I don’t like about this place,” said Johnny. “No central AC.”

“That’s the purpose of a splash pad,” Peter took the wall to his dresser and hung upside down from the ceiling to grab his swimsuit. He pushed off the ceiling and flipped, landing on his feet. “Stuck the landing.” He put his arms out like a gymnast when they finished their routine. 

“Peter, that wasn’t that impressive.”

“You haven’t been at my rehab. That was pretty darn impressive for me right now.”

“Oh,” said Johnny. He cupped his hands over his mouth and made the noise of a roaring crowd. “The stands are on their feet. He has done it.”

“Thank you,” said Peter. 

“No problem man. I will gladly be your hypeman. You’ve been mine enough times in the last year.” 

They both started to change and Peter heard a call from the bottom of the stairs. “You home?”

“Hey, May, we’re changing,” Peter called back. He got them towels from the airing cupboard and headed down. He smiled, “How was work?”

“Good, how were the Fantastic Four? Was everyone nice to you?”

“Sue hooked my Uber to her credit card because she says we’re family and she’s a billionaire who doesn’t want me on the subway while my leg isn’t one hundred percent right. I have eaten my way through their fridge like, at least six times. It wasn’t the first time I’ve played board games with them. Sue’s going with me to the Foundation meeting on Monday. The Fantastics really do think of me as family. No one changed how they treated me once I took my mask off except Reed offered me lab space. It was fun.”

“Good, I’m so glad that your friends are sticking with you.” 

Johnny came down with a smile, “Hi, Mrs. Parker. I’m Johnny.”

She smiled, “Hi, Johnny, I’m just May.” 

They shook hands and Johnny said, “Thank you for having me to dinner.”

“Well, I hear Peter has been eating you out of house and home for a while.”

“The number of times one of the adults walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to find us shoveling food into our mouths,” Johnny laughed thinking about it. “Ben does this whole Glengarry Glen Ross shtick about Always Be Chewing.”

“It’s really funny,” said Peter.

“If Peter is publically Reed’s intern that gives you cover to come over and raid our fridge any time you like,” said May. “Hidden key is above the back door. Text if it’s the middle of the night so that I don’t hear strange noises and think there’s a burglar. I might not always get up, but I will say hi if I wake up. Peter has a curfew now and I expect you to respect that. But I got a BJ’s membership and you’re welcome to break your own curfew to empty the fridge when you’re in the area.”

“I don’t really have one of those. I’m eighteen.”

Peter fanned himself with a letter that was on the table, “Even though Johnny can absorb heat and has borderline no heat sensation recognition he is whining that it’s too hot. So we were just about to hit the splash pad.”

“It shows you how hot it is that I’m whining,” replied Johnny.

May laughed, “We just paid off the mortgage. Peter asked Charles if he could use some of his millions to pay this place off. Which means now, I am going to put aside some money each month and we are going to get central AC. In the meantime, do you mind if I join you or are you having bro reconciliation time after four months apart?”

Johnny laughed again, “No, you should join us, it’s way too hot not to and it’s more fun than showering. But first, before I get even sweatier, shut the windows and curtains; I’m going to do my party trick and buy us all a cold evening.” 

Shutting the curtains, Peter said, “Are you sure you want to do this? There’s no price of admission for dinner.”

“It’s not going to make me go nova, I’m just going to steam when I step onto the splash pad.”

Smiling at May, Peter said, “This is probably the coolest and yet most subtle show of power you’ll ever see.”

Peter moved around the downstairs, closing all the blinds. Standing by the back door, ready to get out, Johnny shut his eyes and breathed in; the house went chilly. Then downright cold. Then he spoke with a strained voice, “Pete, door.” Peter opened it fast and Johnny stumbled out sank to his knees on the path outside, heat waves visibly coming off his body. 

May’s mouth was hanging open. “I know, right?” said Peter. “When you come out, jump the stone he’s kneeling on and don’t try to touch him. He’ll burn you.” Peter moved carefully around Johnny and said, “I’m going to turn on the hoses. We’ll get you cool.” He turned on the spigots. And going to Johnny he said, “Can you let off enough of the heat so I can help you get onto the splash pad?”

Johnny shook his head and said, “I know I said I would be inconspicuous but it would take a second to fix this.”

Understanding, Peter said, “So we claim that I’ve been Reed’s intern for a while. We will build an excuse. Just do it. Don’t be uncomfortable around me.”

Johnny smiled and winked at him. “Flame on.” He shot up into the sky and burned super bright for just a few seconds before coming back down. With a grin, he said, “So much better. Your aunt is way, way, way too hot. Like, she’s too hot for me to handle because she’s not model hot, she’s real life, how-is-that-person-walking-down-the-street hot.” He flopped down on the splash pad. “This is heaven.” 

“Please don’t hit on her.”

“I know when someone is out of my league,” said Johnny with a smile. “It’s different when it’s a stranger. Like someone who likes me for the money or the fame or the looks or the superpowers. But when it’s a relationship it’s harder. And like, this Bobby kid is in my age, is your friend, you think it would work — that’s possible. He’s got flaws, I have flaws — he doesn’t know about Superman; I’m irritating. But a friend’s attractive parent with life experience is not gonna work. I can offer her nothing but money for AC. She’s not that shallow. I don’t punch above my weight class. I have eyes: she’s really hot but noticing that is as far as it’s going to go.” He rolled onto his front. “I can’t believe you built this.”

“It was your future husband’s idea,” said Peter. 

Johnny laughed, “We’re going to exchange names and then say our vows at this rate. He seems perfect.”

May came out in a swimsuit and jumped the paving stone Johnny had been on. “Johnny, what do you think of the setup?”

“I love my future husband for thinking of it even if he doesn’t know his fictional superheroes.”

“Oh,” May said with surprise as she kicked off her flip-flops. “Are you a comic book kid? You don’t seem like the type.”

“No? The media makes me look cooler than I am. I love my action figures. I, well we… it’s kind of a crazy story. Reed built a spaceship, was told not to fly it, we stole it from the government. And, looking back, who takes their fifteen-year-old into space? And then, the solar storm… we seriously broke the law and then we became the mutant threat. So, Reed got out ahead of it before the media could say we were a problem. He tried to protect us. He’s still guilty about altering a fifteen-year-old’s gene code. Reed did a media blitz. He got it all out there all over the press. He painted a picture of the Fantastic Four. It was all branding. It was him and his beautiful genius wife — both amazing scientists, so in love, so photogenic. There was his amazingly talented and rocky astronaut friend—an actual astronaut made of actual rock. And to round out the group there was the cute kid brother — so handsome at fifteen, just on the precipice of being hot and almost legal. To preemptively stop the shouts for our heads we all played our parts, smiled on cue and fought crime when that had never been our goal. 

“Sue is not a perfect housewife scientist. She and Reed bicker, they don’t gaze into each other’s eyes all day. Reed wants to be in a lab, not fighting Doom. The grumpy, crotchety tough guy Ben shows off is for comic effect; he’s pretty laid back but he hates his body so much and he is so sad about it and it hurts him when people are scared of him. And me, I’m not the airheaded, partying, pretty boy model. Looking obtainable and like I’m fun helps sell me. If I’m a normal guy then maybe I’m not a fun commodity but a breathing weapon. I do like dancing, and I do prefer a car engine to a book, but I am a licensed pilot and I want to get married and have kids someday. I have funny footie pajamas and watch cake decorating shows with my sister. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Superman beats Batman in a fight because Superman can fly backward so fast that he can reverse time so even if Batman got the upper hand, all Clark has to do is go back two days and shoot Bruce in the face while they’re still friends. One guy with money, training and smarts doesn’t win against a living god.”

May smiled at him and then looked at Peter, “All of your friends are delightful.” 

Chuckling, Peter said, “I know that being a superhero behind your back was stupid, but I still made good choices.”

“You’re friends with Deadpool,” said Johnny before doing a handstand and hand walking under the spraying arches.

“He’s turning it around,” protested Peter. “And friends is a big word for our relationship.” He sat down in the kiddy pool. “He’s never gonna know my name.”

“Y’know he’s gonna stop hitting on you constantly and start buying you ice cream cones now he knows you’re fifteen.”

“Yay, ice cream,” said Peter, “this is a big win for me.” 

They chatted easily for a while before May said, “I’m going to put dinner in the oven.”

“Need help?” asked Johnny. 

“No, thank you though, I put it together yesterday night, it’s just gotta go in the oven. Then, now that I am cool enough to think straight, I’m going to pay some bills in our lovely cool study. You boys have fun.”

She went inside and Peter said, “I know you were worried but you’re good.” 

“You think so?” asked Johnny. 

“You believe Clark would beat Bruce. I disagree but the fact that you have an argument is good.”

“So she agrees with me?” asked Johnny smiling. 

“No, she has no flesh in this game but she likes that you care. You’re not a movie star; you’re a really good-looking nerd.”

“It was only one movie and I know it was a mistake,” protested Johnny, making Peter laugh. “How the hell do you think Bruce would beat Clark?”

“Because Clark is a good man who would not kill a human. He wouldn’t die but he would lose. You might not be cool enough for Bobby in real life; he’s kinda cooler than we are.”

They argued for a half hour before May opened the back door and said, “Boys, can you turn off the sprinklers, dry off, get yourselves drinks and set the table, please?” They did as asked and as they sat down May said, “Johnny, would you please say grace?” Johnny’s eyes went wide and Peter started laughing. “That never stops being funny,” she said.

“So mean, May,” said Peter picking up his fork. “She did the exact same thing to MJ the first time she came over. We say please and thank you to each other, treat each other respectfully and have a swear jar so people believe that they are really being asked to say grace. The look on your face.”

“That’s so mean,” Johnny started laughing. “I was trying to think of a prayer. Like, Our Father talks about bread so is that good enough?”

Peter shrugged and said, “I don’t know, we don’t say grace. We are Christmas and Easter Christians. Would you pass the garlic bread, please?” 

They enjoyed dinner together and Johnny said, “I promise I won’t let Sue cook when you come over for dinner next week. This is delicious I won’t repay this kindness with my sister’s gross cooking. Reed and I can cook, we’ll claim we’re giving her a night off.”

They chatted and, after dinner, Johnny said, “Y’wanna hang out tomorrow? I’ll come hang out on the splash pad, then you can play with Reed in the lab and get a Baxter Building ID. I mean, book-brain like you must be done with summer reading.”

“We can’t all be flame-brains,” replied Peter. “Have you finished your summer reading?”

“There are good and bad things about being homeschooled by three geniuses. The bad thing is that disappointing my teachers means disappointing my family. The good thing is that I got to read On the Road, Dharma Bums and The Motorcycle Diaries for my summer reading list. I’ve been done for weeks.”

“Cool, wanna come over for omelets and hash browns in the morning?” asked Peter.

“Yes, please,” said Johnny. “Four months is a very long time.” Smiling at May he said, “Thank you for having me, May. Dinner was great and this,” he waved his finger, “explains so much about the most even-tempered, nicest and politest superhero I know. I had a really fun afternoon.”

After Johnny left May said, “Well.”

“Right?” said Peter.

“My God,” she said. “He’s so nice.”

“I know,” said Peter. 

“I wanted to like him for your sake,” said May. “But, wow. He’s just so nice. And I like you around him. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen you since… well, in months. That was like you and Ned used to be when you were kids.”

Peter shrugged, “In some ways, I’m more myself with him than anyone else… It’s just. I don’t know. Before you guys found out, I had to hide so much of who I am from Ned and you and that was stressful. And now I can tell Ned is a little worried, like maybe he isn’t cool enough for me, which is so stupid but there is definitely a little friction there. But with Johnny… I’ve never actually been Spider-Man with Johnny. I was just me in a mask. I don’t do the Spider-Man voice when I’m talking to him in a mask. And I was going through a hard time when we first became friends and he was easy to talk to. He didn’t know me so he wasn’t too upset when I was upset. He didn’t know about Ben. He had already been doing what I was doing for almost two years. We could talk about school and superheroing and family and comic books and food. It’s just easy with Johnny. That’s why I didn’t want to see him when I was half dead: it would have broken his heart. I couldn’t avoid telling you, but I could spare him that horror. And he never knew me when I was the clumsy kid with glasses; he’s only known me to be amazing and I knew it would hurt him to see me so broken. No one will ever replace Ned, obviously, but Johnny is my other best friend.”

“I could tell. And I’m glad. He clearly cares a lot about you too. Plus, he’s sort of a nerd. I liked him. I like that you don’t have friends who would pressure you to drink.” 

He spent the rest of the week hanging out with Johnny and showing Reed his notes, discussing the future of his research. Reed let him use his chemicals to make more webbing, watching with fascination. Peter wore his costume’s gloves while he worked because he had gotten the texture just right so that it didn’t stick to his hands. “Amazing,” Reed said. “This is beautiful, Peter.”

Peter had felt himself blush at the praise. “Thanks, Reed.” 

On Thursday morning he got a text from Ned asking what he was up to. Peter texted back, “Johnny needed some one-on-one time because I never contacted him while I was with the X-Men. That was selfish on my part. I didn’t want to see him upset. He never knew regular Peter Parker so I knew that, of everyone I know other than May, my physical state would upset him most. So Johnny missed me and I missed him. But the need for one-on-one has faded and our plan was to hit the splash pad and then go to his place to hang out and watch a movie on their huge TV. It’s too hot to be active. So you should come over and hang out.”

“Are you sure that’s okay? I wouldn’t want to invade superbro time.” 

Peter read it and typed back, “You are Ned Leeds, there is no part of my life you could invade upon. Come over. Also, delete this text string where we talk about me being super.” Ned came in through the backdoor and Peter said, “I made frittata, sorta. Y’want a slice? There’s hash browns too.”

“I’m kinda nervous about meeting Johnny Storm.”

“Why?” asked Peter, smiling.

“He’s a rich, handsome superhero and I’m a nerdy, fat no one.”

The words hurt and Peter said, “A) You’re not no one you’re Ned Leeds. B) You’re not fat, you’re bigger but that’s the way your body is: your mom and dad are the same and that’s not a problem. Johnny’s not a jerk or shallow. C) You’re a nerd, I’m a nerd and he’s a nerd. D) Superhero, yeah he’s a superhero, I’m a superhero too. This is no different than hanging out with Cat and Ice. Except, Cat and Ice are kinda cool and Johnny is like us just good at talking to attractive people. Frittata?”

“Sure,” agreed Ned. 

Peter cut a slice and heard a knock at the front door, “It’s open, Johnny.”

“What if I was an ax murderer?” Johnny called. 

“Ax murderers don’t knock,” Peter called back. Then he said, “Ned’s here. We’re having frittata and hash browns.”

Johnny came in and smiled, “Hey, Ned. I’m Johnny, I’ve heard so much about you.” He smiled as he shook Ned’s hand. “Do you really have a LEGO Death Star?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Jealous,” said Johnny. “Where did you get it? Nowhere has it.”

Ned shrugged, “No idea, I got it for my last birthday.”

“So jealous,” said Johnny. “Peter, can I have frittata too and, like, three hash browns?”

“Of course,” Peter cut another slice. 

“Is the plan still for us to play on the magnificent splash pad and then head back to my place for movies or have you guys thought of a better plan? Movie theater or theme park? I’m up for anything. I can drive us to the shore if you like.”

“I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. We’re going to Coney Island first thing. So maybe not the shore or the amusement park but I’m up for the movies, if you guys want to. Ned, what time do you have to be home? Is going to Manhattan too much?”

“No, Manhattan sounds good… or an ice cream parlor. I am so hot,” said Ned. “How is it so hot at breakfast time?”

“I like that plan ‘cause it’s cheaper than the movies,” said Peter.

“Where is good for ice cream around here?” asked Johnny.

“Caruso’s,” said Peter and Ned at once. “Family run, made in the shop for the last seventy years,” added Peter.

“Awesome,” said Johnny. “But first splash pad, right?”

“Right,” agreed Peter. Having finished his meal, Johnny stood, grabbed his pants and pulled. They came off to reveal a Speedo. Peter laughed, “Did you wear tear-away pants for that one visual joke?”

“Yeah.”

“A Speedo?” asked Peter. 

“It keeps stuff in place,” said Johnny. “I want to do cartwheels on the splash pad.” 

Things were stilted with the three of them. Time wore on and it got worse. Ned and Johnny were verbally one-upping each other. Ned was talking about when they were five and Johnny was talking about races to the Statue of Liberty. It was grating, lying on his back in a puddle, Peter said, “Can I call a timeout for a minute?”

“Do you want me to turn off the sprinklers?” asked Johnny as Ned said, “Are you hurting?”

“No, just come sit,” he sat up and patted the mat, making splashes. They sat and he said, “There is an awkwardness here that’s killing me. I hate this. Like — in movies — you see someone with two friends and there’s a power struggle. And I’ve always thought it was bullsnot but there is a really weird vibe. You two are my best friends and I feel like we should talk about this because I think you two could also be best friends. And if you’re gonna get schoolyard about this, I’ve got two hands to hold there is enough of me going around. And if you’re thinking that I’ve made things more awkward, I would remind you that I was recently tortured and get, like, a few passes. And, Ned, I get that you think Johnny’s cool and you’re wondering if I’m too cool now. But for a long time, you didn’t know I was Spider-Man and you thought I was a little absentminded but have I been cooler? No. Johnny’s not cool: that’s just his face. And, Johnny, you think that you’re in competition with Ned because we’ve lived in each other’s back pockets since we were in kindergarten and you and I have only been friends for a year. You were the person I confided all of my superpower fears to you and now Ned’s here. But I’m not going to forget you just because my first friend knows about my after-school activities. So we gotta sort this out now because the vibe sucks. You’re not in competition. All three of us own the Han Shot First t-shirt. I see a future when I text you to ask what you’re up to and you both respond that you’re playing Call of Duty online together and that I need to log on immediately. Thoughts?”

“You made an awkward situation worse by talking about it,” said Johnny. Then he sighed. “Ever since the solar storm and Reed making us famous, everyone thinks I’m cool. Everyone thinks I’m too cool to talk to, like I’m too cool to want friends. The only people who hang around with me are other celebrities, who I don’t really know, or people who want to make out with me so they can say they made out with me. So, in the end, I end up being the kid alone at the lunch table. I haven’t had any real friends since going to space and then there was you and I had a real friend. You are my only real friend. Then you took off your mask and I thought that that meant I could have a friend twenty-four hours a day instead of between nine PM and six AM and now I’m being reminded that I don’t get you all to myself. That sucks. I’m just adjusting.”

Ned looked sad, “Dude, you don’t have to eat by yourself, we have so much room at our lunch table ‘cause we’re losers. I might have taken the metaphor too far, but… We should get MJ over here. She’s nice… sorta… she doesn’t like after school activities so she has more free time than me to hang out with you. I’m in a lot of clubs. We can get you friends… well two: me and MJ. And we can’t eat snacks on the Statue of Liberty with you but we can eat snacks closer to the ground and we have family and teen crap to talk about and we can listen to your stuff. I won’t understand superhero stuff and you won’t get the robotics club drama but we can vent at each other. I’m sorry if we slip up and make inside jokes but soon enough May or someone will say, ‘The line was so long at the store.’ And the three of us will shout, ‘Tacos!’ because of a thing.”

Johnny smiled, “That would be really nice. And hey, Peter’s got an internship with Reed, maybe on Wednesdays the three of us can hit the comic book store together and just read together.”

“Book club,” said Ned, with excitement. 

“See this is where we should have been two hours ago and I don’t feel bad for a few minutes of awkwardness,” said Peter. “It’s like in Shakespeare: if anyone actually talked those plays would be over in half the time. ‘Juliet, you’re marrying Paris.’ ‘I can’t, Dad, I married Romeo.’ ‘Oh, well, we’re Catholic so there’s no divorce. I guess we’re gonna have to bury the hatchet.’ And the curtain closes on the first awkward Capulet/Montague family dinner. Fair, warning, Ned: Johnny thinks Superman beats Batman.”

“Dude,” said Ned. “Clark is too good of a man to win.”

Johnny groaned and, as the two started to argue, Peter got up and got his phone, texting MJ, “Johnny Storm and Ned are fighting about Batman and Superman, come hang out: splash pad, ice cream, Johnny’s apartment for movies.” 

MJ texted back, “If only to raise the caliber of discussion, I’m on my way.”

“MJ is heading over,” Peter relayed to the guys. He put his phone down and then treated the splash pad as a slip-and-slide. Johnny’s phone was pumping out music and all three of them were dancing to Sexy and I know It. It was a good sign that Ned was dancing, not worrying about his body, laughing with Johnny and Peter. Ten minutes later MJ was coming through the side gate. 

“Hello, boys, hello, Johnny Storm.”

“Hey, MJ,” said Peter. “How are you?”

“Irritated. It is so hot and the line at the bodega to get an iced coffee — nothing fancy just an iced regular coffee with cream and sugar — was so long.” 

There was a micro exchange between Peter, Johnny and Ned and all three shouted, “Tacos!”

“What?” she said, confused as she unbuttoned the fly of her shorts.

“Nothing,” said Ned, through giggles.

Rolling her eyes she said, “You have been together for ten minutes. How are there already inside jokes?”

“It’s not really a joke, it’s a joke about not having any inside jokes,” Peter tried to explain but he was fighting the giggles. 

“So it’s a meta inside joke based on nothing?” she asked. All three boys lost it and started giggling again. MJ pulled her shirt over her head and revealed her blue one piece. “It’s too hot for meta inside jokes. Johnny Storm, may I ask what you’re doing on a DIY splash pad in blue-collar Queens?” She flopped down on the splash pad, the water splashing up from her impact.

“Same as you, MJ: making new friends and wondering how it’s this hot before eleven AM. Next up we’re getting ice cream and then heading back to my place for a movie. I have the original Star Wars trilogy on laserdisc, from before George Lucas messed them up.”

“Oh God, you’re like these losers aren’t you?” she asked. 

“Yes, except I don’t know stop, drop and roll,” said Johnny, laughing at his own joke. 

“And you think Superman wins in a fight, I kind of agree but I sit the conversation out. I don’t have any interest in that fight. So here’s an interesting question: Spider-Man vs. Human Torch?”

Johnny thought about it, “Every comic book has arcs where characters lose their powers. If we are power-free, Spider-Man — any day. Spider-Man has knowledge about how to throw a punch. I never needed to learn how to fight because I’m on fire. But with powers, me. He’s stronger, faster, smarter but I can burn at twenty-million Kalvin. So when it comes down to it — gloves off — there is no discussion.”

“A) I don’t think I’m smarter I just like school more and I’m a little more rational than you. B) You’re bringing your super-nova ability to this fight? I thought we were friends,” said Peter, laughing. 

“This goes to your argument that Batman wins because of Clark’s integrity. If we’re approaching this as best friends we come to a standstill. Neither of us could bear to make the other bleed. If we’ve both gone evil or zombie: my power beats yours. Steve Rogers broke your leg with his mind intact but zombie me will barbeque you to less than dust. Tragic.” 

“Peter,” said MJ, “counter-argument?”

“Nah, I think it’s right: no powers, I win; powers, he wins.”

“We need to get Superman and Batman into a room to take the question they could also probably also answer the question and stop nerds all over the world having this argument,” MJ did a handstand but faltered part way into it and fell, “That’s embarrassing in front of the superheroes.”

“I once slipped the crown of the Statue of Liberty and forgot I could fly for a moment and panicked, and Peter caught me with a web while laughing his ass off.”

“We were so punch drunk,” said Peter laughing. 

“I think literally, I’m pretty sure I had a concussion,” said Johnny. “So, MJ, always attempt the handstand and never be embarrassed. Superheroes aren’t cool we’re just good at faking it. Confidence is comforting to people in crisis. I can’t do a right-handed cartwheel, like, at all.”

They messed around for an hour, getting chilled by the cold hose water felt great. They played for a couple of hours and then Peter said, “Ice cream?”

Johnny groaned, “I only have pull-away pants.”

Peter laughed, “We’re the same size; you can borrow my jeans. They’re only from Gap but, they’re better than going into public in pull-away track pants.”

“Thank you,” said Johnny. They changed and redressed and Johnny looked through Peter’s jeans like he was going to find something designer if he searched the whole lot pile. He picked a torn old pair that that been worn thin. “Looks good.”

“The rattiest jeans I have?” asked Peter.

“They look professionally distressed.” Johnny shrugged as he pulled them on. “Are we driving to this place or walking?” 

“Walking, it’s three blocks,” said Ned.

They got to the ice cream parlor and saw a huge line that went out the door. Johnny sighed, “Tacos,” making Ned and Peter laugh. 

MJ just rolled her eyes. They waited in line for almost exactly twenty-one minutes. MJ lifted her hair off her neck and said, “I’m getting sweaty just standing here.” 

Johnny said, “I would try and take some of the heat off you but, honestly, I’ve only ever done that with burn victims so it might be painful. They like it but they’re already in pain so they might not notice it.”

She laughed, “Thanks for the offer but I’m good.”

When they finally got to the front Peter ordered chocolate chunk in a waffle bowl with sprinkles and whipped cream. He reached for his wallet but Johnny said, “I’ve got Reed’s black card. The ice creams are on me. He doesn’t want his intern paying for anything. You’re still in the honeymoon phase.” 

They all ordered sundaes and MJ said, “Thanks for the ice cream.”

“No problem, sorry about the tacos,” he said. He moaned when he took a bite of his strawberry ice cream. “My God, that is good.”

“Told you,” said Ned. 

Afterward, they went into Manhattan and pulled into the private parking garage. MJ looked around at all the beautiful classic cars and whistled, “Nice cars.”

“Thanks, I restored them myself,” said Johnny. “You guys do your science; I rebuild cars.” 

“Really pretty,” said MJ.

“Thanks,” he said. Upstairs he called, “I’m home, I brought Peter and some friends.” He toed off his shoes by the door and they all followed suit. 

Sue came out and smiled, “New people, hi, I’m Sue.”

“MJ and Ned,” said Johnny. “We’ve been on the splash pad and then eating ice cream.”

“So you guys are here for movies and AC?” asked Sue. 

“And to see your smile,” said Peter.

She smiled, “Did you tell your friends about your internship?”

“They know I’m Spider-Man, Sue,” said Peter, seeing the real question.

“Good,” she smiled at them. “Well, you kids have fun, the kitchen is stocked.”

Heading to the media room they ran into Reed, who was carrying a toolbox and two bottles of bleach. “Hey, new people.”

“Reed, these are Ned and MJ,” said Peter.

“Oh, hi, are you guys friends from school?”

“And life in general,” said Peter. “They know about Spider-Man, and they’re scientists. So maybe later, if it’s okay, they could have a tour of the lab?”

“What kind of science do you do?” asked Reed, with obvious interest. 

MJ started talking about game theory and how it could be applied to large gatherings of people. Johnny met his eye and tilted his head so they left Reed with Ned and MJ and went to the kitchen. Johnny got out salsa and chips and string cheese. Peter looked in the fridge. There were post-its on some things that said, “Ben, Johnny and Peter: hands off.” The sandwich roast beef wasn’t marked and Peter took it out to have a few slices. 

Sue came and said, “I thought you were going to watch a movie.”

“Reed asked MJ and Ned about what science they studied,” said Peter. “MJ said the words game theory, we have ten minutes before Ned starts talking about streamlining redundancies within robotic systems. So we decided to go for snacks.” 

Sue kissed his cheek as she passed. “It’s good to see you.” Then she spoke softly to Johnny, making sure her voice didn’t travel beyond the room, “Are you having fun?” 

“Yeah, they’re really nice,” said Johnny. “There was a little awkwardness at first but we’re good now. They’re nice. We had a lot of fun dancing and stuff. We already have an inside joke.”

“That’s great, Johnny,” she smiled.

Peter said, “I wouldn’t have brought you guys together if I wasn’t sure you would like each other. I mean, have I introduced you to, or even talked about, a kid called Flash?”

“No,” said Johnny.

“No, and I never will, ‘cause he’s the worst. Ned and MJ are great and you’re great. Putting you together can only yield more greatness. Sue, are you keeping this potato salad for dinner or can I have some?”

“You can have some but leave about half of it,” said Sue. “Have you guys eaten?”

“Peter made us frittata and hash browns and we had some popcorn and pretzels while we were on the splash pad. Then we went and got really good ice cream sundaes,” said Johnny. 

“Okay, so you don’t need a real meal,” said Sue as Ben came in looking confused.

“There are two very, very excited kids in the lab with Reed, got too loud.”

“Sorry,” said Peter. “But, I mean, to be fair it’s a lab shared by an astronaut, medical researcher and physicist: it’s an awesome multipurpose space.” Ben rolled his eyes and got a fork. Peter held out the potato salad and said, “This is great but we have to leave half for Sue.” 

“You kids staying for dinner?” asked Ben.

“No, May and I have an early morning tomorrow so we’re going to have a quiet night at home.”

A couple of minutes later his friends came in, MJ looking shell-shocked. “You okay?” asked Johnny. She shook her head. “Did Reed do something both embarrassing and vaguely disturbing with his body?” she shook her head. “Did you break something?” she shook her head.

“Dr. Richards offered us internships and told us to call him Reed,” said Ned. “It was a little overwhelming.”

Johnny laughed and said, “Outside of me, Peter, how many of your friends aren’t absurd scientists?”

“You design, build and machine your own engines with exacting precision,” said Peter, “why are you so insistent that you’re a mechanic and not a mechanical engineer?”

MJ said, “Actually, um, Dr. Storm, Reed thought… well, even though my research is on Game Theory, it has such wide applications that maybe I should work with you?” It came out as a question. 

She blushed hard and Peter mock whispered, “You’re one of her heroines.” MJ hit her fist to his chest and he looked down and said, “Until recently I would have pretended that had some effect on me.”

Sue smiled at her gently and said, “That would be great. You can just call me Sue. Why don’t you write a summary, no more than six pages, about what work you’ve done, about your methods and what questions you seek to answer? Don’t worry about tailoring it to medicine, we’ll figure out how that works together, even if it doesn’t work I’ll still be happy to guide your research.”

Still looking overwhelmed, MJ said, “Six pages, I can do that.”

“Six pages max,” said Sue, “if it’s two that’s good too.” 

“Let’s gather snacks and go watch movies,” said Johnny, “I need to get you all back to Queens by six. The sooner we start the further we can get in Star Wars.”

“My cup runneth over with joy,” said MJ sarcastically.

“And she’s back,” said Ned. Peter and Johnny handed off snacks to the others. 

They settled into the media room to watch the movies in the cool, mostly dark room for four hours watching both New Hope and Empire. As Empire ended Johnny paused it and said, “We don’t have time for a third.”

“We have a lot to unpack from the first two,” said Peter. 

MJ was typing fast on her cell phone and Johnny said, “What are you doing?”

“I was texting my mom about the internship. Now I’m writing my six pages for your sister.”

“Should I be doing that? I was watching the movie,” asked Ned.

“No, we were watching the movie. Reed doesn’t need it today or tomorrow,” said Peter. “MJ, relax, Sue’s nice and not going to fire you before you even start.”

“But she’s Dr. Sue Storm,” she stressed the name. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“Y’know what makes you a fool? Not watching the good Star Wars,” said Johnny.

MJ sighed, “I’ve been friends with these two for a year. I’ve seen these films three times each in the last year. I’m good.”

“I miss a few hours ago when you guys were intimidated by me,” said Johnny with an overly dramatic sigh. Peter patted his back. 

They launched into their conversation about the movies. MJ turned her attention back to the phone but every once in a while would chime in, showing she had paid more attention than she was letting on.

After about an hour, Johnny said, “I should get you guys home.” 

On the way to drop off dishes in the kitchen, Peter popped his head into the lab, “Thank you for having us.”

“You’re welcome, Spidey,” said Reed, looking up with a smile. “It was nice to meet you, kids. Ned, I’d like your write up and paperwork by Tuesday.”

“Absolutely, Reed, I’m really excited,” Ned said with a grin.

“Dr. Storm, um, Sue, sorry, I’ll have the summary to you by tomorrow morning,” said MJ. 

Sue smiled and came to her, she placed a hand on either side of MJ’s head and said, “Breathe out, girl, you are so tense. This is going to be fun. But it’s not going to be fun if you treat it like a scary job. You got an internship in a cool lab with cool people. You’re going to do math and stats and we’ll see together how your findings might apply to my research or how it applies to something else. Breathe out, girl, I would like your paperwork by Tuesday. If you finish it sooner, great, but don’t push yourself on the prelims. Okay?” She used her hands to manually nod MJ’s head for her. 

“Cover story,” said Reed, “Peter wrote to me when Stark went on trial and reminded me of when we had met several times and that I had shown interest in his research in the past so I offered him an internship. He and Johnny were hanging out, you met us through Johnny and you were excellent enough to instantly get offered internships. This story is solidly eighty-five percent true.”

They put all the snacks away in the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher before taking the elevator down. “Dr. Sue Storm just touched me,” said MJ.

“Breathe out, girl,” said Johnny, quoting his sister. They drove singing along to the stereo. They dropped Ned off first and MJ off a couple of blocks over. Driving to the house Johnny said, “I like them.”

“Of course you do,” said Peter, “I wouldn’t introduce you to awful people. It seems like you’re going to be seeing a lot of them.”

“Do you think Reed offered them internships because he thinks I need more friends?”

“No one thinks you’re a charity case, Johnny. And there is no way Reed would suffer fools in his lab just to buy you friends. I think it’s just a happy coincidence that you like my friends and that Ned and MJ are smart enough to be in the lab.” 

They pulled up to the house and Johnny said, “So, over under: it takes MJ a week to get used to Dr. Sue Storm knowing her name.”

Peter thought and said, “Over.”

“Hot dogs?” wagered Johnny, they shook on it. 

Peter opened the door saying, “Thank you for the ride home, Johnny. You better go and do a full report to your family.”

Johnny laughed, “It might have been a shock, I leave on my way to hang out with you and come back with two extra people in tow. I never bring anyone home.”

Peter smiled, “It’s weird, you know a million celebrities and I’m just me but I am going to totally upend your social life.”

Laughing again Johnny said, “You’re Spider-Man, Peter, the only difference between you and me is that people know my face. You take off your mask and your shirt and you’ll be in exactly the same boat I am, pretty boy. Get out of my car. Say hey to May for me.” 

“I will, and I’ll be keeping my mask and shirt where they are.” 

Inside he kissed May’s cheek and told her all about his day and listened to all her stories from the hospital. It was an easy and quiet night but he was thinking of Ben and he was sure she was too. He was glad his day had been so full, he hadn’t wanted to dwell but he was glad to be alone with her now.

The next day he and May had breakfast at a diner before heading over to Coney Island. It was a sad day but they had fun. “They say it gets easier after the first year,” said May on the Ferris wheel. “Look at that view. We got through it and look at that view. He’d be really proud of us for getting through it.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’d be proud of you, for keeping the ship on course. I mean I should have told you about the superpowers, and Steve and SHIELD kind of made things a dumpster fire for a while, but you kept the ship afloat. You did good, May, you did good.”

“Honey, you were a fourteen-year-old boy who did something silly on a school trip and then you got in over your head and you trusted one of your idols to help you. I’m not angry at you for anything. And Steve Rogers broke your leg, he should die in a fire. It’s been a rough year but it wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

They went to see the turtles and sea lions at the aquarium. They ate too much fried food. Johnny texted, asking him if he was back from Coney Island and if he wanted to hang out. Peter texted back, “It’s the anniversary of Ben’s death. May and I are celebrating surviving the year. Want to come to my rehab at the X-Mansion tomorrow? You can meet Bobby.”

“Yes and, if you want to talk later, I’m one text away. I didn’t know it was the anniversary.”

Before the fireworks, Peter said, “I promised you a prize from the dubious games. I got this, what do you want?” 

She looked around and said, “Do you think you can win me the giant octopus?”

“Do you think it can fit in the back seat of the car?” he joked and went up to the booth. Smiling at the guy he said, “What do I have to do to win my aunt that octopus?”

“Five out of twenty rings on the top shelf of bottles,” said the guy.

“Okay,” Peter handed the guy five bucks. He felt the weight of the rings and said, “I got this.” The rings were unbalanced, none were perfectly round or flat and they all had different weight. He breathed out slowly and said, “I got this.” The first three landed perfectly. The fourth and fifth landed on the bottom row. The sixth missed completely. The seventh landed on the middle row. The eighth and ninth landed on the top bottles and the whole booth lit up with sensors triggered. There were bell ringing noises and a gleeful siren. He smiled at the guy. “The giant octopus, please.” Holding the last elven rings he said, “Do I give these back or can I give them to,” he scanned the crowd that had gathered, “the little girl in the pink dress?” 

“The rule is, y’can’t pass them on because you could get two prizes. But a little kid can have them,” said the guy. 

“Here, honey, you have a turn,” said Peter, holding them out to her. She took them with a grin that was missing many teeth. He took the huge octopus and held it out to May. “A promise is a promise.”

“You won me the giant octopus,” she took it and kissed his cheek. “Let’s get cotton candy and find a good spot for the show.” Peter rested his head on her shoulder as they ate their cotton candy and watched the fireworks He felt tears in his hair and he took her hand in his, squeezing gently. 

As it finished he said, “You okay?”

“It’s just been a hard year and he would have loved today.”

“Thank you for being my mom, May. I’d be lost without you.” She hugged him close. 

The park started to clear out and she said, “Thank you for suggesting this, honey. It was a wonderful day.”

The next morning when Johnny came in he said, “Why do you have an octopus the size of your kitchen table on your kitchen table?”

“It looked smaller when I asked Peter to win it for me when it was on a high shelf at the fair last night,” explained May. “I have no idea what I am going to do with it.”

“Well, it’s a conversation starter if you leave it on the kitchen table,” suggested Johnny.

“You want coffee before we hit the road?” asked May.

“No, I’m not grown up enough to pretend I like it,” said Johnny. 

“So gross,” said Peter.

“When did you have coffee?” asked Johnny. “That’s so not you. You would mainline caffeine if you could but not coffee.”

Peter smiled, “You didn’t watch the torture video?”

Shaking his head, Johnny said, “We were off-planet until you’d been with the X-Men for two weeks. I wanted to come to you but Sue said to leave you be and that we would see you when you were ready. Reed started to watch it and told me not to. He ordered me not to, he said I would go off halfcocked and maybe make stuff worse. He watched the full length one. And he gave me cliff notes: that Steve Rogers broke your leg really, really badly. That you had a really bad concussion and they used light to make you puke a lot of times and there was blood in your vomit. That they starved you and you lost almost fifty pounds. That they made you pee in front of men with guns. That Widow drugged you. And they kept you in a subzero room for eight days. That Steve Rogers tried to pretend he was the good guy. That SHIELD threatened your family. That Tony Stark was horrible. And I figured that, well, I am a hothead so maybe it was better that I just learn about it from you when you want to talk about it instead of watching it.”

“I didn’t want them to screw with the food and I asked them for an MRE with a heater. There was a sachet of instant coffee. It had eight calories and it was the first source of caffeine I’d seen in days. I don’t know if real coffee would have been better but I don’t want to find out. I’ll take my caffeine the way God intended: Coke, Red Bull and Monster. I want a couple of hash browns before we go. Anyone else want hash browns?” 

Johnny looked horrified by Peter’s words. He swallowed a few times and then seemed to decide he should just accept what he was being told, “Are we going to be late?” 

“We’re going to a house. This isn’t an appointment. Hank and Bruce will work on their real work until we get there,” said Peter. “I got a lot of speeches about being more relaxed and trying to have fun while getting back my body. I would like some hash browns.”

Johnny nodded, “Okay, cool, then I would like hash browns, please.” Peter got the hash brown patties out of the freezer. He started to fry them and Johnny said, “You’re gonna put too much ketchup on these, aren’t you?”

“No, you’re gonna not use enough.”

“Watching your nephew eat a hotdog is almost worse than looking at The Collective.”

“All the Parker men use too much ketchup. It’s just a family characteristic,” said May.

Peter flipped the hash browns onto paper towel he grabbed plates and took one, still slightly too hot and poured ketchup on thickly. “Watch this, Johnny.” He spread it out evenly with a finger and then licked the excess off his digit while keeping eye contact with his friend. 

“Eww, you sick bastard,” said Johnny, genuinely looking grossed out. 

“Swear jar,” May ordered. 

“Seriously?” asked Johnny, “I don’t get a pass for being a guest?”

“No, swear jar,” May said firmly. 

Peter watched Johnny, grinning and eating his hash brown patties.

“I don’t understand swear jars,” Johnny grumbled, getting out his wallet. “If you spend it on something fun, doesn’t it kind of encourage swearing?”

“No, as the person who doesn’t swear, I get to spend it. So it doesn’t encourage Peter at all.”

“What do you spend it on?” asked Johnny.

“Cocaine and hookers,” said May, without missing a beat. “It goes into Peter’s college fund. But I guess now his college fund is irrelevant. We could get you a nice little Kia, Peter, once you learn to drive. It’s easy to park and safe. We could afford that and about a decade of insurance.”

“A car?” said Peter. “I don’t need a car in New York. Maybe we should use the money to knock out the unnecessary walls down here.”

“What is up with you trying to pay for the house?”

Peter smiled as he bit into another hash brown patty. “Y’know what would be a total dream for me? Like, full-on all on fantasy? Buying Mr. Watson’s place next door with the three bedrooms, knocking down the fence between the yards and putting a single picket fence around them and living with you and my future wife and kids in a family compound. That would be perfect. That’s why I want to remodel the house, this is home.” 

“We will talk about this later,” said May, “let me think. Your parents started that account for you.”

“This is for me; I live here,” protested Peter. Then he said, “Besides, Johnny won’t be friends with a guy in a Kia.”

“I will build you a custom car for free. Little, aesthetically pleasing, amazing gas mileage, one million airbags, amazing brakes: safer, prettier and cooler than anything on the market.” They finished up the hash browns and Johnny said, “Want me to drive, May? Give you a break.”

“Are you sure, Johnny?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Is this like you give Sue a break with dinner?” asked May, cocking an eyebrow.

“If I had been driving to and from Westchester for fourteen weeks, I would be so done,” he said, “this isn’t like me avoiding Sue’s cooking; this is a genuine offer.”

“I would really enjoy being a passenger,” she accepted the offer. “But you don’t drive like a racecar driver, right?”

“Not unless I’m racing,” promised Johnny. 

Peter opened the front passenger door for May and slid into the back. It was Bobby who opened the door when they got to the mansion. He froze. Peter said, “Bobby, Johnny. Johnny, Bobby. The sooner you start talking the sooner we can get you two hitched.”

“Hi,” said Bobby, “I’ve heard a lot about you… and I’m sorry about Rawhide Kid.”

Johnny laughed and Peter said, “You two go chat. I’m going down to get horribly messaged and scream a little, possibly cry. Come find me in a half hour?”

“You don’t want moral support?” asked Johnny.

“No, too many tears,” said Peter. 

May squeezed his arm and said, “I’m going to find Scott for a cup of coffee. I’ll come in a bit.”

“Go to the gym, I’ll scream for Drs. McCoy and Banner,” said Bobby. “No point in you going to find them, they’re in the lab and you aren’t in your mask.”

As they walked away he heard Johnny, “So, I have to thank you for the stroke of genius you had when you suggested the splash pad. It is so much fun.”

Peter smiled and went to the gym where he started to stretch. He wanted to be as loose as possible before Hank got his hands on him. He stretched and moved for ten minutes before Hank came in. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Pete. I was working with samples that would degrade.”

“No, it’s cool, I was telling Johnny earlier, this isn’t a doctor’s office.”

“He and Bobby are talking up a storm. I think I saw Johnny blush.” Peter laughed. But the laughs soon stopped when Hank started stretching him. It was painful but Hank said, “You’re healing so well.” 

After forty minutes of agonizing stretching, Hank said, “Ready?” He started across the obstacle course but kept stopping to play, to try and get a feel for it. Every time he tried hard he hit something painfully. He grunted angrily in pain.

“Can I suggest something?” asked Johnny.

Peter hadn’t seen them come in but he said sharply, “What?”

“Nuh-uh,” said Johnny and wagged a finger. “I heard you get testy during this ‘cause of the pain but nuh-uh: you do not use that tone with me. We have been through more supering-crap together than anyone else. You don’t get to use that tone when I am helping you. I didn’t use that tone with you when I broke my arm so bad the bone stuck out and you jolted me while swinging me home so you don’t get to use it with me just ‘cause this sucks. We’ve bled on each other too many times for that tone of voice to be acceptable,” He flew up and turned the flames off of his upper half. “In addition to being wounded and starved, you were out of the game for months. You didn’t start awesome. When you started swinging you hit stuff and now in addition to being injured, you’re out of practice. You have forgotten how to move.” Then he put out his arms, “Drape yourself over my arms like a fainting damsel in distress. And if you even think about rolling your eyes, I will drop you.” Peter did as told and Johnny said, “Relax a bit, a bit more, a bit more, a bit more. That, that, stop right there, that is the angle your back should be at when you do that, over the beam, reach back and swing move. Do it again but get into this position.”

“Okay, thanks,” Peter moved up and grabbed the beam. He ran, jumped and pushed himself into the position. He flew over the beam and reached behind himself. He caught the beam and swung backward doing a backward somersault and landing properly on his ass, the way he intended. “That felt right.”

“You looked right. You forgot how to do it but it’s okay ‘cause I remember and as I didn’t see you with a broken leg all tortured and shit I’ve got a little more distance than everyone else around you. Do it again.”

For the rest of the day, every time he failed, Johnny was flying up and correcting his position. Peter got three-quarters of the way across the course before swinging on to a beam panting. He landed correctly on the beam, on his feet and left hand putting three-fifths of his weight on his hand, the way Johnny had instructed him. “That felt good, but I have to stop or collapse.”

“You look good,” said Johnny. “Good work. It must suck on that leg.” 

Peter swung down and sank into the mat and Hank said, “Torch, you’re coming back next week.”

“Sure,” said Johnny. 

“I didn’t mean that as a request,” said Hank. “That was better than he has ever been. You have watched Peter in a mask for hundreds of hours, way more than any of the rest of us. I thought this was just injury but you saw something we missed.”

“Beast, you guys have done so, so much. Surgery and rehab and all that healing and weight gain. I’m just twelfth-hour quarterbacking.”

“That’s not a saying,” said Peter.

“It’s like Monday morning quarterbacking but at a point when it can still help. You okay, you need help standing?”

“I need, like, all the drugs and a shower.” Bruce bought his a cup of pills and two bottles of Gatorade. Peter swallowed them all and drained one of the Gatorades immediately. 

“You need help getting to the shower?” asked Johnny. “I’ve been, like, a full-on asshole to you for three hours. Sorry.”

“Nah, just help me up,” Peter put a hand out and Johnny pulled him up, “Maybe the kid-glove haven’t been working and I’ve been using it as a crutch.”

“What are friends for if not to call you out when you’re being a douche?”

As he walked into the shower he heard Hank say, “Jesus, Torch, some of that was mean.”

“Yeah, it’s the kind of stuff only a best friend can say. You did a good job on that leg. Pete said you guys have lunch?” 

Peter showered and changed into his mask, a t-shirt and his swim trunks. He went out to see his friends putting some stuff away. “Hank, am I maxed out on drugs? ‘Cause I still hurt everywhere.”

“Um,” said Hank, “I can give you a few more. That was a much more intense workout than you’ve had before. Come through to the kitchen.”

“Johnny, I’m Spider-Man in the kitchen, other than these guys and Kitty, no one knows both my name and my face,” said Peter.

“I got that speech while you were showering,” Johnny assured him. 

As he passed May she caught his wrist. “You okay?”

“That was more me than I have been since this whole thing began,” said Peter. “I am okay. I hurt but you almost saw me moving like me. And that, emotionally, feels amazing.”

They went through to the kitchen where there were build-your-own tacos. Logan smiled, “Kept things warm for you. That was way longer than usual.”

“It turns out, Johnny is, like, a crazy personal trainer,” said Bobby. 

They ate, Peter took more pills when they were handed to him, Logan looked at Peter and Johnny’s plates and said, “I swear: you two put away more than anyone else.”

“Reed has this theory about that. Because he, Sue, Ben and Bruce eat a truckload too.” He pointed at Bruce’s loaded plate. “People with the x-gene are built to function like that. Their metabolisms are normal because that’s how their bodies were programmed to function from the beginning. But irradiated people are kicked into overdrive and our bodies can take it but weren’t built for it and that’s why our metabolisms are crazy high. But it’s only a theory because Peter won’t give him blood and he’s too polite to ask Bruce as they aren’t friends. He needs a larger sample size.” They ate until they felt good, Peter ate more than anyone else. 

Kitty came in and sank into a seat. “How was driving?” asked Peter. 

“Ms. Frost went to go lie down,” answered Kitty. She looked up and said, “Hey, it’s Johnny Storm.”

“Kitty, hey, I’ve heard so much about you. Maybe I can help with your driving lessons, cause from what Spidey says, you’re traumatizing everyone else,” Johnny said with a smile. 

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” 

“As I’m a teenager,” said Johnny, “We need an adult in the car but they can just close their eyes in the back seat while I actually teach you.” When it was time to swim, Johnny said, “I forgot my suit in the car.”

He left and Bobby grabbed Peter’s arm, “He is so, so freaking nice. He’s just a straight up nice guy.”

“So I told him that it was my plan to get you guys hitched and I implied you had a crush, not that you had been writing Mr. and Mr. Storm on your books. Be cool,” said Peter. 

“Oh my God, he’s so out of my league.”

“No, he’s not. You’re nice, he’s nice, just go with it,” said Peter. “This could work, just be cool.”

“I know you said he was your best super friend but, like seriously, he’s your super Ned,” said Bobby.

“We met when we were both struggling, we helped each other. Yeah, we’re totally tight.”

“I kinda thought he was half a step ahead of me and Kitty but that kid,” Bobby shrugged. 

Peter laughed, “He and I are family. You, me and Kitty, we’re friends, just give it a while to grow.” 

“He’s so nice,” Bobby repeated. 

Peter nodded, “Your children will be so well adjusted with their happy kind dads.”

Johnny came back with his trunks and said, “Is Spidey trying to force the marriage thing again? Seriously, Spidey, we aren’t chattels.”

“I expect a dowry from both of you,” Peter replied. 

Kitty tilted her head, “Are you high?”

“Johnny pushed me so hard in rehab even my teeth hurt. But it was great,” Peter raked his hands over his face. “I am on so many painkillers.”

“He looked amazing, it was almost like seeing Spider-Man,” said Bobby.

They swam for a few hours, Peter relaxing on the semi-inflated lie low while the others played. May came out and said, “Boys, it’s time to go.”

Johnny pushed himself up to sit on the side of the pool then he grinned, eyes only for Bobby, “You have my number. I expect texts, okay? And I will see you Saturday.”

“I expect texts back,” said Bobby. 

“Promise, gorgeous,” said Johnny, making Bobby blush. Then he said, “It was really nice meeting you, Kitty, and if you want driving instruction, I’m free most Sundays.” 

They redressed and, in the car, Johnny said, “He’s so freaking nice and funny and cute and I want to marry him and adopt all the babies with him.”

“I knew you would hit it off,” said Peter. He was stretched out in the back, seatbelt fastened but with his legs splayed out across the seat.

“He’s awesome and I want to do all sorts of dirty things to him that we can’t talk about with May in the car.”

May laughed, shaking her head, and Peter said, “Okay, but be careful, okay? Don’t hurt him.”

“Why do I get a shovel speech?” asked Johnny, “You know I’m not a player and you know I’ve been hurt. Why doesn’t he get the speech?”

“Because he’s never kissed anyone,” said Peter. 

“Oh,” said Johnny, “That makes sense. But he should get a speech too, I mean, if you’re facilitating our marriage.”

“Okay, what do you want his speech to be?”

“That I’m not a pretty airhead and he shouldn’t kick me in the teeth because I do have a heart and it can be broken. Also, suggest naked selfies.”

His words hurt Peter’s heart a little, too many people thought Johnny was pretty and disposable. He wore his celebrity like a shield but there was a very gentle person behind the veneer of the Human Torch. Peter forced himself to ignore his thoughts and smiled, “I’m not pressuring my friend into naked selfies.”

“Pressure? No, no. Do not pressure him; that’s a horrible thing to do. That’s coercion and very, very closely related to assault and definitely abusive. I’m just saying you casually slip it into conversation that I would not be adverse to nudes.”

“There is no way to casually slip that into conversation,” said May. 

“Your nephew is a genius, he’ll figure it out,” Johnny waved away the sentiment. “Bobby’s like a blond, non-bland hotter version of Shawn Mendes. And when they make a hit Broadway show about our epic love it’s gonna be called The Sing-along Song of Ice and Fire: the Musical Extravaganza.”

“That’s kind of a long name, sweetie,” said May.

“Everyone is a critic,” he shrugged, unfazed. 

“Asking him for nudes is probably a terrible idea,” said Peter.

“I have a heavily encrypted phone, no one hacks my photos.” 

Peter laughed, “You heard the bit where I said he’s never kissed anyone, right? You rush into nudity and sexting and you are going to spook him. Flirt like the world is ending but don’t rush anything. Just enjoy flirting.” Peter dozed off after that and woke up as they stopped in front of the house. “Y’wanna come in, Johnny?”

Johnny laughed, “I’m staying for dinner and May texted Ned and MJ to invite them over for a mellow video game night.”

“Cool,” said Peter.

They had spaghetti for dinner and then MJ came in with a binder, “Can you read my research?”

“Your advisor read it,” said Peter.

“My advisor isn’t Sue Storm. I can’t embarrass myself, Peter.” 

“You seemed much cooler when we met,” said Johnny. “Like, I didn’t fully understand why you’re friends with Ned and Peter but it becomes more obvious the more time I spend with you.”

“Your sister is taking me out to breakfast tomorrow,” said MJ. 

“Cool, can I make a suggestion?” asked Johnny. She nodded and he said, “Don’t bring the binder. She wants to get to know you. Sure she wants to know about your work but she’s more interested in music taste and hobbies. Peter said you draw. That’s cool. Do you have siblings? A girlfriend or boyfriend? Don’t bring the binder. There’s plenty of time for you to talk about your work in the lab. A Sunday Girls’ Breakfast is for you to get to know each other and hang out. Don’t bring the binder.” 

She nodded, “Okay, but I still want Peter to read the binder before she sees it.”

Peter took it but said, “I had a hard physical therapy today and a bucket of painkillers, I will read it when I’m not drugged up.”

“So we’re gonna play Guitar Hero on easy?” asked MJ.

“No, we’ll play it on hard I just might not beat you are bad as I usually do.” He thumbed through the binder and said, “Color coordinated? So pretty.”

“Oh yeah, that’s way too many drugs for you to be useful,” said MJ.

Ned turned up and they started playing Guitar Hero, May in the study. Peter was on too many painkillers to do well but it was fun. By nine he was essentially passed out on Ned’s shoulder.

He and May went to Target to buy school supplies. She got him a new red JanSport and said, “You tuck your black one inside, for school, when you switch to being Spidey you switch bags and put the red inside the black. I don’t want anything to connect you to Spider-Man, not even backpack color.” He hugged her, grateful that she hadn’t tried to outlaw him from being Spider-Man.

On Monday, he went with Sue to the Maria Stark Foundation building. He put a message on social media, “I asked the Maria Stark Foundation @MSF to copyright my name so the judiciary system can take it away if I ever do something horrible. Now I’m going to model for toys. #WishMeLuck #HopeIDontLookStupid.”

Inside, the lobby was actually a foyer and he said, “Was this a house first?” 

The receptionist said, “This used to be the Stark Mansion, where Howard and Maria Stark lived with-” she stopped herself. 

“It’s okay to say his name,” said Peter, “he won’t pop out of thin air like Candyman or Bloody Mary.” 

The woman nodded and said, “When he founded the Maria Stark Foundation, he donated the building.” 

Looking around Peter said, “It’s really pretty.”

A woman came and smiled, “Spider-Man, hi, I’m Marissa, I am going to be your main agent/point of contact/hostess for the process. Hi, Dr. Storm, it’s nice to see you.”

“Hi, Marissa, I’m here to keep Spidey company.”

Marissa smiled, “That is great because a lot of people say that the process is weird and kind of overwhelming so having a friend here helps.” Then she added, “Do you prefer Spidey to Spider-Man? I haven’t heard Spidey before.” 

Shrugging he said, “I don’t mind either, I answer to both. I think Johnny started Spidey and I think it’s because it sounds closer to a name than a title so when you hang out with someone three to four times a week it feels weird to call them a title instead of a name. But I don’t mind. I think of Spider-Man as more professional. Although, a lot of the cops call me Spidey too but they picked it up from the Fantastic Four.”

She nodded, “I’m going to stick with Spider-Man for now, as we’re being professional. Would you like a drink or a snack? I want to show you the fall lineup of toys. Anytime someone from one of our desired demographics comes in we like to get their opinions on upcoming toy lines to see how we’re doing, if we’re right in our projections and how we’ve assigned age levels. We would love for you to take a look?”

“Are you serious? I can see the new lines? I am such an action figure and toy freak, I would love that. I am totally your core demo for action figures.”

“I figured, I saw a lot of our stuff in your garbage box on Twitter,” Marissa said. “Let’s go see what you’re going to refill your room with.” They walked out to a barn and she said, “I don’t know if you’re interested in the history, it might be painful at this point, but this was Howard Stark’s lab. Now we use it as the toy depository for showing things to our amazing models and our camera systems to take your pictures. Manufacturing and distribution aren’t done from here. And the main house is our offices and function spaces for our intimate galas.” 

Peter nodded as they walked in, “That’s cool. It’s nice that the property takes up a city block, lots of space.”

Marissa smiled, “It’s a great place to work, the Foundation is a great atmosphere and the work we do is so important and meaningful.” They walked in and she started down one hall and then stopped, “Actually, maybe we should take the other route.”

“Why?” asked Peter.

“There’s some art that I asked to be taken down but, uh, it seems-”

“Is it a poster with Steve Rogers and Tony Stark giving thumbs up?” asked Peter.

“No, we threw out that stuff. That’s in a landfill at this point. It’s the original schematics of the machine Howard Stark built for the Captain America project.”

Peter thought and said, “I’m trying to divorce them in my head — the heroes and the men. I kept some of my action figures from when I was little, and the Iron Man costume I lived in that my mom sewed for me. I’m trying really hard to think of them as separate entities. Captain America broke Hydra, Steve Rogers broke my leg. You guys made that legally true. I would like to see the very important piece of history.” She led the way to the pictures, Howard Stark debonair and quite like Tony, building the machine, the schematics of the machine, looking incredible. “I watched this thing on PBS, wondering how the pyramids and Stonehenge were built. And the researchers kept going on and on about how impossible it was to build them and it kinda made me angry. Because they acted like, as the people lived a long time ago, they were idiots. And were going, ‘How could these people have thought of this and done engineering?’ And it was kinda galling, like, ‘They pulled it off ‘cause they were smart.’ The researchers all thought they were smarter than those people but they couldn’t recreate it so who are the dumb ones? Modern history didn’t invent intelligence. 

“But looking at these… Howard Stark was a genius, so before his time it almost feels impossible. In a hundred years there will be talk of, ‘How did they pull it off?’ And the answer will be that he was smart. And, super arrogant, who is so sure of themselves that they think that can just build a better man? Who would be so arrogant as to ask a person to get in that machine? They never even did lab animal studies, they just got a guy to climb in and hoped for the best. It’s a beautiful machine, it’s super steampunk. And, from these diagrams, it seems like the original plan was to have it steam driven.”

“You can read them?” asked Marissa, “I can’t read them. But I guess there was a reason you had to convince the bastards to let you have the MRE’s heater.” So, she had watched the video, or at least read a summary. 

“Spidey is a science-wiz. Sometimes Johnny gets irritated because Spidey gets into talking about our experiments and Johnny says, ‘You’re my friend, walk away from the adults.’” Sue spoke with a fond smile. 

They walked by a security desk and Marissa smiled, “Do you have a clipboard for Spider-Man? He is going to be evaluating the toys.” 

“Sure,” said a woman there, she smiled at him, “it’s an honor to have you here. You’re the first street hero to sign up and let us make toys. You’re helping to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity.”

He smiled and said, “Nice to meet you too.” 

She handed him the clipboard and said, “You write the product ID number and any comments. We frequently get things like not enough points of articulation, uncanny valley face, colors aren’t right: places we can improve.”

“We also like to know what we’re doing right, so just list the ones you think are good and star the ones you would like in your room and any shirts you would wear,” added Marissa.

“Easy,” said Peter, “I’m really excited.” She showed him into a huge space, absolutely stuffed with toys, a lot of it was for little kids, toys and costumes he had no interest in. Looking around he felt almost overwhelmed and he said, “Do you mind if I take a picture of this for social media?”

“Are you kidding?” asked Marissa. “Since you at-ed us this morning we have had two thousand new followers, Just don’t do any close-ups, okay?”

He smiled and took a wide shot of the room he captioned it, “I may have died and gone to heaven. @MSF has a room filled with unreleased toys and they asked for my input on stuff. Senpai has noticed me. #PlayItCool” He published it before venturing deeper into the room. 

He reached the first table and saw it was the Avengers. Black Widow had long blonde hair in a ponytail, Falcon’s goggles hid most of his face and his jaw and build weren’t Sam’s, Cap’s cowl wasn’t removable and he didn’t have his shield, he had the one shaped like a knight’s that he had in the comic books, Iron Man’s visor didn’t open. Marissa said, “We released the rights, anyone can make toys. We just wanted the official Foundation ones to be about the heroes, not the people.” 

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“It was unanimous, you know,” she said and he looked at her, confused. “When the judge called. I was at the switchboard she asked me to make it a conference call and once everyone was on the line she read your statement and said, ‘If you release the titles into the public domain, those names are not theirs anymore.’ And the head of the board said, ‘I think we can do a verbal vote and get this over fast: all in favor of releasing the rights, supporting the morally righteous thing to do and denouncing the bastards say aye.’ And there were a lot of people saying aye and then he said, ‘All those in favor of keeping our copyrights and not backing a child who was hurt by the bastards we all trusted say nay.’ No one made a peep. Everyone here is on your team.”

That made it hard for Peter to speak, touched by their actions, so instead he nodded and focused of the toys. A Clint figure was really cool and could actually shoot tiny arrows. There was a cool one of Bruce at a lab bench, Bruce had individually articulated fingers and could hold all of his equipment. He starred them both on the paper. A Hulk one looked too angry and he wrote, “Hulk isn’t usually that angry; that’s a pain grimace. I don’t think a toy should have his face in pain. Hulk isn’t an angry guy, he’s usually grumpy and dangerously irritated.” They moved on and spent over two hours with Peter evaluating the toys and shirts. A lot of them got stars on the paper, a lot got notes. Once they were done Peter handed her the clipboard and said, “This was really fun. Can we maybe take a break? My leg hurts a little and before we get the camera going, I would like a glass of water. If that’s okay?” 

“We have snacks and lemonade and soda all set up for you,” said Marissa. “The minute we see giant subs in the office fridge, we know someone is hosting a hero. I’ve seen you eat enough hotdogs and stuff to know you aren’t a vegetarian that I ordered a ring sandwich with ham, turkey and roast beef.”

“I would very much enjoy a slice of that,” said Peter.

She led them into a lounge and said, “I am going to bring your notes to R&D. They might not be able to change some things if they are too close to production but color and points of articulation can be looked at and fixed. Thank you for helping.” 

Peter opened a Coke and got a plate of sandwich and chips and pickles and a brownie and, “Nice table.” He put his plate next to the whole spread, took out his camera and took a photo, posting it to social media with the caption, “Social media is filled with pictures of pretty food. I am always more interested in quantity and quality of food than how photogenic a sandwich is. @MSF knows how to do a spread.”

“I told you: they feed you well. If you’re a grown-up, there’s beer. How are you doing?”

“So far so good. I just needed a sit, y’know?” He kicked off his clogs and sat on the floors, he folded his good leg under himself and propped his bad leg above his heart on the sofa. “That will help.”

She kissed the top of his masked head before going to the snack table. She got some fruit salad and said, “You having fun so far?”

“So much fun,” agreed Peter. “But we haven’t gotten to the camera part yet. Where do think Marissa went?”

“She is giving you a break and staying away so you don’t feel any pressure to get a move on. I have nowhere to be. Marissa is going to give you as much time as you want because you’re the star, you’re going to make a lot of money for the Foundation and you’re a kid who was hurt by some of the largest stars of the Foundation. It’s your day. The Foundation won’t have put anything else on her schedule for today. So you rest and eat. Do you have plans today?”

“Yeah, Johnny and I are gonna hang out and play in my yard and then my mom said she would make a ham and that Johnny is welcome to join us.”

“That’s nice of her,” said Sue.

“She likes Johnny and turn around is fair play. I’ve been in your kitchen for ages.” 

“I’ve always liked having you in our kitchen and I am glad she likes Johnny enough to have him over for dinner. That plan doesn’t have a deadline, so you enjoy this break.”

He ate a second plate of food and they talked about space before he said, “I’m ready now, I feel good.” He stood and stretched as Sue opened the door and went outside. 

Marissa came back in with Sue and said, “I spoke to the designers, they are speaking to Dr. Banner about Hulk’s face and changing a few things. As I said, that line is close to being done but we really appreciate your feedback. They’re fixing the problem you saw on the spinning Storm figure’s costume and changing Rouge’s hair parting.” 

Peter smiled, “I know it’s all silly.” 

“It’s not silly: it’s what we do for a living. I wouldn’t have asked you for your thoughts if we weren’t interested. We parted Rouge’s hair wrong on an object that’s sole purpose is to look like her. We’re going to be taking the pictures and video right next door. And whenever you need a breather or a sit, you can come back for more snacks, there will be cupcakes later. We like feeding heroes. And we jokingly call this the green room. Do you have anything to do today? Are we on a schedule?”

“Hanging out with Johnny, so no. It’s very low-pressure plans.”

“I’m sure he’ll roll up here if we’re here long enough,” said Sue. “He likes the snacks.”

They walked next door and Peter saw high def and motion capture cameras. He didn’t mean to comment, he tried to keep his photography to Peter Parker and not Spider-Man but he saw one and said, “Is that a Green Coal Blue?”

“Do you like cameras?” asked Marissa. 

“I would consider it more of a scientific instrument, the precision is amazing.”

She smiled and said, “If anything makes you uncomfortable, just say. I was Johnny’s liaison the first time he came in and I was suggesting things he might like and he kept agreeing. It was only when Dr. Storm came in that I found out he was uncomfortable and had just been agreeing because he didn’t want to say no to a charity. We want to be your partner not exploit you.”

“Sue told me about that, and how he didn’t want a onesie. I really do want one, I am not being polite. I was told we could get a full face one that zips up the face and has mesh eyes.”

“You’re okay with that?” asked Marissa. 

“I would like to own one,” Peter said without hesitating. “In the summer, I sit around in boxers; in the winter, I need to wear something to watch TV. I would like a onesie.”

She smiled, “Good to know. We were wondering, and please feel free to say no, if we could see your spinnerets. We like to make the toys accurate.” 

Confused Peter said, “Wait, wait, is it a common belief that my webs are biological?” He looked at Sue. “Did you think this?”

She smiled, “For two months when we first met. But then I was with you when your web shooter jammed and you took it off to fix it.” 

Peter rolled up his sleeve and removed his glove, showing the woman his shooter. He held out his arm to Marissa, “I built these myself.”

“Whoa, you built them?” asked Marissa. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” said Peter as Sue said, “He is a genius. I wasn’t kidding.”

“We wouldn’t make them accurate, no villain would be able to figure it out how they work, but would you be okay with us taking a picture of them, not high def, just so we could make toy one with little cans of silly string?”

“Yes, you can one hundred percent make that,” he okayed it. “A functioning toy? Always coolest. I had the Iron Man repulsors. They lit up and made the noise. I wore them in the costume my mom made me, I wore them practically every day. When it has a function, it makes them feel real. You get to feel like you’re really the superhero. I kept that suit. It’s more about my mom making it, y’know? It’s not about Iron Man and more to do with me being a hero. It’s sort of the precursor to this,” he gestured at the suit he was wearing, “except I sewed this instead of my mom. So, yeah, totally make silly string web shooters.” 

He spent the next two hours posing, attempting to swing around the room, some of it was okay. He crawled to the ceiling and let himself down on a strand of webbing. He kept himself stationary and asked for a book saying, “I frequently read upside down. I don’t know if you’re planning a figure with articulated fingers, but I feel you should have images of me reading, just in case you decided to give me working hands and a little mini book, or a sandwich as an accessory. I am just thinking of what I do in my every day spidering.” 

After that he moved one hip, making himself spin slowly before falling into a side split then he slowly moved to the side. He let himself down from the web and did walkovers, handstands, cartwheels. He did a very slow front split, having not pulled it off only a short time before when MJ had come to his rehab. He breathed in hard ‘cause it ached and Sue said, “Take a break, Spidey, that was a pain noise, take a break.” 

He groaned, “I should have asked Hank for some post stretch painkillers for this.” 

“Maybe we should call it quits for the day,” said Marissa. 

“No, I just need a break,” said Peter. “Some caffeine, Advil and elevating and I’m good to go.”

The door opened and Hank said, “An hour break, at the least.”

“Hank?” asked Peter, “I told you: you didn’t have to come. Sue came.”

Hank nodded, “You did and I wanted to give you space so I was here doing a bit of paperwork. But this is essentially rehab without the music. You’ve been stretching and climbing for hours.”

He saw Sue was holding her phone and he said, “Sue, did you rat me out?”

“I am here as your grown up. Your doctor was in the building and your leg is hurting. It’s not ratting you out to get you medical help.”

Hank came and knelt. Reaching out, he put gentle pressure on Peter’s leg making him gasp. “We’re going to need an hour and a half and a room with a door that locks so that Spider-Man can take off his mask while I stretch out his leg.”

“The green room’s door locks,” said Marissa. 

“Great, Sue, would you mind going out for Starbucks?” asked Hank. “Spidey screams and sometimes there are tears.”

“Oh!” said Peter, “I know that Hank is just giving an example of an errand that would take twenty to thirty minutes. But if you do go to Starbucks, may I please have a venti chocolate Frappuccino with extra chocolate sauce and chips? Not a mocha: they will do it with a crème base instead of coffee.”

She smiled and took a small pad of paper from her purse and said, “So Spidey wants a twenty-four ounce no coffee chocolate milkshake with extra sauce and chips. I will get an iced caramel macchiato. Hank, what am I getting you?”

“Grande iced raspberry latte, please,” said Hank.

“Any special instructions?”

“None that I can think of,” said Hank.

She wrote and said, “Marissa, what would you like? Boys, I am going to get a few other orders, your drinks will be here when you’re done.”

Peter and Hank went into the green room and as Hank locked the door Peter pulled off his mask. He opened a Coke and tried to touch his toes but his hip locked up. Hank looked around and cleared the magazines off the coffee table. “Let’s get your leg realigned.” He took pills from his satchel and said, “First: drugs.”

Peter laughed, accepting and swallowing the pills with his Coke before he moved to lie on the table and said, “Why is my hip such a problem?”

“Because your leg was untreated for a week and then I let you walk around on it until the surgery when I knew it was putting weird pressure on your hip. I should have kept you in a wheelchair but it seemed unkind to restrict your freedoms.” He massaged and stretched his leg working down over and over and then starting at the top again: hip to foot. 

“You don’t get to take responsibility for my leg being bad,” Peter said between panting and moans. “That’s Steve’s claim. You’re responsible for getting me walking as much as I do.” 

“You’re much, much looser than you usually are,” said Hank. “But, then, you’ve been exercising for two hours.”

After a while, he felt better, drugs and Hank’s work paying off. He dried his tears and blew his nose and then said, “Would it be rude to keep everyone but Sue out? I want the Frappuccino but I don’t want to put my mask on.”

“That’s not rude; we can do that. Sit at the end of the couch that’s obscured from both the door and its hinge.” Peter did as told and Hank went to the door, opening it. He said, “Hey, we’re ready for Sue and drinks but Spider-Man is not in his mask and not up to polite company yet.”

He heard Marissa say, “Take your time. I’m texting with the developers. They like the articulated fingers idea, they have more poses they would like. Tell Spider-Man to relax and feel good. I have nothing to do today except shadow him so he’s not wasting my time; he’s giving me a chance to catch up on emails.” 

Sue moved past Hank and smiled at him. Peter’s eyes went wide. She grinned and held out the comically large drink. “They said a Trenta is only for iced coffee or tea but I told them it was for you and that you eat eight thousand calories a day and I wanted to surprise you. They have been following you on Twitter: they’re excited about the toys too.” 

He took the drink saying, “Wow. Thank you, Sue.”

“They asked if you would mind giving them a shout out, not for marketing or anything, not a plug, just a shout out to the specific branch. They said it was okay if you didn’t. There were just really into the idea of you saying hi.”

“Sure, which one was it?” She told him and he took a picture of the cup in his gloved hand and posted. “The crew of 68th&Madison Ave’s @Starbucks made me this. I just asked Sue Storm for a venti and she came back with this beauty. I don’t think you’re supposed to get 31oz milkshakes, but this is amazing and I am so happy right now. #AllTheJoy” Looking at his alerts he said, “Why am I blowing up?”

“You joking?” asked Sue. “You posted two very short videos and one tweet. Now you have had three in a day.”

He started took through the responses and liked a lot of them, sharing some. He retweeted a meme someone had edited of the Brooklyn Nine-Nine of the woman holding the dog. They had put a picture of him over the dog and captioned it, “I have only known Spider-Man for a few tweets but, if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.” He retweeted it adding “I always love this meme and now it’s even more fun! I’m in a meme, friends!” 

He saw some that were a little negative about him, and about his toys and he tweeted out a series of messages that he then cross-posted to his other profiles, “Y’know when musicians say that they’re excited to share new songs and we’re all like, ‘Yeah, but it’s not free, so you’re excited for my money’? Well, I’m super excited for my toys. But let’s talk truth. 55% of me going to @MSF was to make it so the court could strip me of my name. 40% was me wanting the toys. I like toys and I had to throw away most of my action figures. These are toys of me as a freaking super-powered hero. 5% is money, I’m not going to lie. Web fluid is expensive, snacks cost money and movie tickets are freaking outrageous. I would like money and I don’t have time for an after-school job. I have the money from the court but not until after college. But, honestly, I’m just really excited that my action figure might have articulated fingers. And there’s the whole argument about whether or not heroes should make money off of heroing. Firemen make money but they are also hired people who were vetted. It’s a whole moral and ethical question that I don’t have an answer for. The good news is that if you come down on the side of it being wrong, you can speak with your wallet and not buy a Spider-Man with functional fingers. I will have one that @FlamingHotJohnny will inevitably throw at me while shouting ‘Why are you hitting yourself?’” 

Then he replied to a ton of sexual ones with a post that read, “To everyone who is making thirst posts, #quickReminder: I am very much a minor. Some of y’all need to turn it down from 11 and talk to Jesus.”

He saw a lot of tweets praising him for being a dork and one said, “I always thought I would be super intimidated if I met Spider-Man but now I feel like I could get out my binder of Pokémon cards and he would be into it.” He smiled and retweeted it replying, “I don’t know much about Pokémon but I’m always up for learning about other people’s passion! So, you bring your cards and I’ll bring my comics and we’ll talk about our favorites.”

Johnny retweeted his long post and added, “Imma totally throw those figures at your head.” Then there was another that was just a short video of him looking put out, stunned, confused and finally saying, “How is this fair? This is not fair.” directly to the camera. And he captioned it, “TFW your sister leaves you at home and buys @ActualSpiderMan a 31oz Frappuccino while you get nothing.” 

He finished his Frappuccino and took another photo. He posted it with, “It was delicious @FlamingHotJohnny #YourSisterLikesMeBest #WhyWouldSheBuyYouADrinkWhenYouArentHere?” 

The adults had been talking to each other while he typed. He put his phone down and said, “Okay, done with that until later. Johnny is jealous of my Frappuccino.” He smiled at Hank. “How is everyone at school?”

“They miss you and everyone is horrified that school is starting again so soon — teachers and students. We would all love it if we could just hang out and go camping together year-round but we have to teach and they have to learn.”

“Do you guys start the same day as public schools? I’m dreading Wednesday.”

“We are starting Thursday,” said Hank. They talked for a little while longer and then Hank said, “I have some more paperwork. So I am going to make myself scarce and let you two get back to your semi-sibling day.” Standing he said, “Text me if your leg starts hurting. Otherwise, I will see you for rehab. I’ll be in the building if you need me but you don’t need to seek me out to say bye.”

“Thank you for the drugs and the stretching,” said Peter.

“No problem, Spidey. Have fun, guys.”

Peter’s phone beeped with an alert and he said, “Johnny posted a video.” He sat next to Sue and hit play. 

Johnny was walking and looking at the camera, “So I go into a Starbucks, not the same one, and ask for a Trenta strawberry Frappuccino. The barista said that they don’t do giant Frappuccinos and I told him about Sue getting Spidey a giant one and the barista said, ‘Okay, but he was recently tortured.’ And, like, fair. But also, Steve Rogers’ justification for torturing Spidey was that he’s a genetically enhanced irradiated person and I’m one too. So, under the SHIELD regime that just went to prison, I coulda been tortured. And I said that I understand that for health reasons they don’t offer giant Frappuccino’s, but I eat eight thousand calories a day too… I couldn’t convince him. But he did let me buy sixty cake pops and I am headed to my sister and Spider-Man to hang out at the Maria Stark Foundation. I’m not going to eat sixty cake pops by myself.” 

Peter stretched and said, “The drugs have fully set in and I’m as loose as I am gonna get without a hot bath. Let’s get back to it before Johnny comes and it ends up being a three-hour break.” He pulled his mask on and said, “Thank you for my delicious drink. It was exactly what I needed. I’m really glad you came with me today. This is way more fun with you here.”

“Johnny wasn’t the only one missing you, Spidey. I’m happy spending the day with you. It’s been way too long.”

Marissa was sitting at the empty desk, sitting on a swivel chair, staring at her phone. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” said Peter.

“Are you kidding me? I made great progress on Candy Crush while getting paid. How are you feeling?”

“Good to go and we should start because Johnny is coming and he has a tendency to derail me.” They went into the camera room and he said, “Do you mind if I do all the crouches tourists have caught on film now, before we move onto anything else? They hurt when I’m tight and I’m not going to get any looser.”

“Are you comfortable doing them?” asked Marissa. “If you’re hurting we can wait until another day.”

“I’m good. The great thing about having my personal physician on site is getting an immediate exam, drugs and treatment. Sue, did you text my mom about that? I can if not.”

“Hank texted her. He wasn’t going to have you swallow narcotics and not inform your mom.” 

“Cool,” said Peter. “Marissa, let me know when to start.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

He went to the center of the room. He dropped into the crouch when his knees were up, butt down and fingers grazing the ground between his legs. He held the pose for forty-five seconds. Then he moved, hands taking his weight in front of him and looked down, as if perched on a roof. He slowly counted to forty-five. Then he straightened his back. Put one arm out behind him for balance and put his other arm out, posing his hand like he was shooting web, without actually tapping the button, he counted silently. Then he widened his stance and put one arm in front, shifting his weight like he had just landed — the superhero pose as Deadpool called it. Once the forty-five seconds were over he said, “And here’s the worst ones.” He put his bad leg out totally straight, putting all this weight on the other, he casually draped one arm on the bad leg and put the other down to keep himself up. The forty-five-second count sucked and then he only got to switch arms, putting the one that had been casual, in front of his leg to support him and raising the other as though shooting web. He groaned once he had counted, “It’s so stupid that the way I crouch — never practiced, not thought out, just the natural way I crouch — now hurts.” He was done with crouches and said, “Okay, what else did R&D want?” 

Marissa had him hold a series of objects and had him sit on a beam. Then she said, “Can you swing your legs, please? Just the casual swing that you do so frequently.”

Peter let his legs swing lightly as they dangled beneath him. He yawned deeply and then said, “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize at all, you’re being a total champ,” said Marissa, “Are you able to do that cool thing where you sort of run, sort of skate horizontally over the face of a building?”

“No, for two reasons. A) That takes a lot of core strength that I am currently rebuilding. B) I can’t get the kind of momentum needed to do that in a room this size. I need a city block’s worth of five-story buildings to work up to that move. I can attempt to do the pose, see how it goes, but I can’t give you footage of the actual move.”

“I don’t want you to do anything painful,” said Marissa.

“It won’t hurt, it just won’t dazzle,” He stood on the wall keeping straight with his body to the floor, he kept a web attached to the ceiling to hold up his weight. “At least this shows the Green Coal Blue the way the material of my costume drapes when I’m hanging at this angle.”

The door opened and Johnny said, “What’s a nice spider like you doing hanging around here?” 

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” said Peter slowly. “Hilarious.”

“Thanks, I’m here all afternoon. Don’t forget to tip your server,” He brought a pink cake pop to Peter.

Taking it, he replied, “Here’s a tip: you have a smudge on the left side of your nose.”

Johnny rubbed his nose, “Dude, I talked to half the city between here and Starbucks no one else told me.”

Peter smiled, “I’m sure they were just distracted by how blue your eyes are. I mean, electric blue, c’mon, how are they not contacts? Can you fold up my mask so I can eat this beautiful pink thing?” He was still hanging and didn’t have a free hand.

Johnny helped him, “Thank goodness I’m in a deeply committed relationship because my dating game is largely based on the fact that I look just like a young Steve Rogers with prettier hair and eyes. That isn’t a good hook anymore.”

“Are you in a deeply committed relationship? It’s been less than forty-eight hours since I introduced you,” asked Peter.

Johnny smiled and shrugged, “Approximately one million texts, three hours on Skype and an invite to hang out at the mansion on Friday night to celebrate the first week of school make me think so.”

“Awesome,” said Peter, “I knew you guys would totally hit it off.” He handed Johnny the cake pop’s stick and then started to swing, letting himself bounce gently off the walls, not trying to genuinely swing with a goal, just trying to bounce without hurting himself. He met mixed results.

“He’s perfect,” said Johnny, “Although I do think he’s too cool for me and he’s gonna realize that at some point. Like, I told him that Reed’s new interns and I have started a Wednesday reading club and he asked why it was on Wednesdays.”

Peter laughed and Marissa said, “Wait, why is Wednesday significant?”

“Marissa,” said Johnny, handing her a cake pop. “I didn’t realize you were cool. You’re so enthusiastic about action figures. Wednesday is when the week’s comic books go on sale. Reed’s interns and I are going to read our comics together. You should join our Wednesday club too,” said Johnny, looking at Peter.

“Nah, between school, home, rehab and Spider-Man, I don’t have time for a Wednesday club but a Wednesday club redux at some point in the week would be nice.”

“Of course,” said Johnny. “So what other setups do you have to do for Marissa?”

Peter shrugged, “Marissa, what else do we need?” 

“Nothing, but the footage we’re getting right now of your casual swinging is actually great. It’s loosely connected motion, the computer is getting all sorts of details,” She smiled at him. 

“Cool: I’m not too bad of a distraction. So, Spidey, what’s the plan for dinner?” asked Johnny.

“Baked ham, but it’s being cooked on the barbeque along with corn, veggie skewers and potatoes,” said Peter. 

Johnny grinned, “I love dinner at your house.”

“Johnny,” said Sue, “Question: who did her best to raise you and put dinner on the table every night when she was at college and working nights at that diner to make ends meet?”

“Sue, you’re the best sister in the universe and I love you very, very much and I appreciate everything you do for me. It’s just that Spider-Man’s mom is a really good cook and we only ever have ham at Easter.” He hugged her tightly. 

Peter let go of the web he had been using, having already attached himself to the wall and crawled up to the ceiling. He went to the center of the room, away from the beams, and lowered himself on two strings of web and he flipped over and over like one of those old toys. “What are those wooden toys called where you squeeze the two sides of the wooden tongs together and the monkey or acrobat or diver just flips over and over?” 

“Trapeze toys,” said Sue, “loving the impression.” 

Peter was winding up for a big release but Johnny spoke, in his earnest voice, “Spidey, I see that you’re going for a big move but you’ve been at this for hours and hours and your bad leg is dragging a little so you might wipe out, hit a literal wall and ruin our afternoon playdate.” 

Peter sighed and gradually slowed his flips until he was just swinging. He lowered himself to the ground and said, “I hate it when you’re the reasonable one.”

“I know, bummer of a role reversal. Ninety-four percent of the time you’re the one being the downer, this time it’s me.”

Peter laughed, “I didn’t say downer; I said reasonable.”

Nodding, Johnny said, “I know. But you’re a downer ninety-four percent of the time.”

“Ouch, you’re uninvited to our playdate.”

Johnny made an exaggerated whine, “Y’already ran long here and we are into playdate time. I get that there’s no racing in our immediate future, but I wanna play. Sorry I called you a downer. Can I come over and play?”

“Apology accepted,” said Peter. 

“And your playdate can start right now,” said Marissa. “We can call it quits for the day. In a week, we will send your Foundation email address a lot of designs and you can look them over with your mom, Spider-Man. Then we’ll do mockups and tweaks and have stuff on shelves by Black Friday.” 

“Wow, you can so it have fast?” asked Peter.

She shrugged, “We’re not doing any modeling or big new lines with the Avengers. Clint isn’t responding to email, Bruce is finished for the year and the rest of them went to prison and no longer have any input or requests for new toys because Tony Stark is not Iron Man and has no right to object if we make his armor green and we don’t need to see how light levels react to his current tan. You’re going to be our big line this winter. We need this on the shelf last month. We are going to turn this around immediately.”

“So cool,” said Peter.

She offered to show them out and, at the front desk, Peter was handed six large shopping bags, “We wanted to refill your shelves and closet. We genuinely did want your input on the new lines but asking to star what you would want was a ploy.”

“I starred way too much stuff. This is way more than I threw away.”

She smiled, “Hence the ploy. Johnny actually called and said, ‘Don’t tell him it’s a shopping spree: he’ll hold back.’ This isn’t a one to one replacement. This is us saying thank you for working with us. And this is the Foundation giving a teen — who has been walking a really, really rough road — a fun wardrobe and shelf content makeover. This is just part of what we do. We can’t fix what they did but we can rebuild your action figure and shirt collection. And, in the future, when I ask you to star stuff: don’t hold back. We like doing this.”

“This is the unreleased stuff you were looking at this morning?” asked Johnny, almost jumping up and down. “Oh my God, let’s go unbox stuff and pick out your first day of school outfit.”

“A lot of them aren’t in finalized packaging, so it’s less unboxing and more unwrapping,” explained Marissa. “Have fun. Spider-Man, we’ll talk soon.”

Sue drove them to Peter’s house, Peter changed in the back of the car with dark tinted windows and said, “Have fun, boys.”

They ducked into the house quickly, and Peter was glad none of his neighbors worked from home. He led Johnny to his room and said, “Don’t try to suck in the heat; social thinks you’re hanging out with Spider-Man not Peter Parker.” Walking toward the window unit he said, “Just give it half an hour.”

“Wait don’t bother. Let’s go play, then we’ll change, turn it on, have a snack and then fully decorate your room.”

By the time May came in, they had gotten the barbeque going and were sitting in the kitchen with the air conditioner going, still in swimsuits, opening all of his new action figures. Peter smiled, “Ham is on the grill everything else is good to go.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “Hi, Johnny, how are you?”

“Great, May, I brought Peter and everyone cake pops while he was modeling.”

“Yeah, how was modeling? Did you knock over a collector store for this pile of swag?” Peter told her all about his day, Johnny adding color commentary. She looked at the collection, half playing with them. Peter and Johnny were laughing and making her laugh and when they finished she said, “I’m glad you had such a fun day and that you got all your new toys.”

Peter’s cell phone chirped and Peter read it saying, “Can Ned come to dinner? He’s having a fight with his little brother.”

“Sure,” May shrugged, “we have more than enough. I knew I was feeding two supercharged teens so that ham was meant to feed a family of twelve, whatever is left over is gonna be soup.” 

Peter turned to Johnny, “This was supposed to be super bestie time. It’s cool if you want to call dibs.”

“No,” Johnny shook his head. “You were totes right: he’s awesome and we can legit be friends. Invite him. We can play with and then arrange your action figures and have round two on the pad, eat ham and maybe play video games?”

“Fair warning: I’m gonna flag at some point. I have had a lot of drugs and worked out for a long time today.”

“Okay, Ned and I will play on the splash pad while you drowse in a puddle.”

“That sounds awesome,” said Peter. He texted Ned back and looked at Dr. Strange’s beautifully detailed cape. “I wish I had a cape but it wouldn’t be useful with my skills.”

“One billion percent agreed,” said Johnny. “Like, for you, it would screw with your acrobatics. For me, I would have something on fire that moves independently of my body.”

Peter had never kept things in boxes. A lot of Ned’s were in the boxes but his parents had bought him fancy action figures that the Parkers couldn’t afford. Peter’s had always been meant for playing. He didn’t care that the new ones were fancy, they were still toys. Ned came and exclaimed over the toys, they spent time playing with and then arranging them in his room, before helping May with dinner, playing in the water and eating. After dinner, they settled to play video games. “Pick one that can have multiplayers but doesn’t need it because I might pass out.”

“Can I play Mario Cart with you boys?” asked May. “I don’t start until seven tomorrow.” 

He felt himself drifting off and he may have passed out in the middle of a race. 

The next day, T minus one day until school, he sorted out his backpack and hung out with his friends on the splash pad. Late in the afternoon, Johnny said, “May is meeting us at my place, right? We should go. Sue is nervous about hosting May so we should go just to calm her down.” Bidding Ned and MJ goodbye, they headed to the Baxter Building. 

He helped Johnny prep food and talked with Reed about his internship schedule. When she arrived, Reed gave May a tour of the lab saying, “If it were Johnny who had been used by Tony Stark we would be very worried about another super scientist offering another internship, we would be very reticent about saying okay so I want you to see that this is real and we’re on the level when we say we care about Peter and want him safe and educated.” He talked about the importance of Peter’s homework and about spending a weekend morning working in the lab. He also talked about the possibility of the Fantastic Five and about Peter’s future as a scientist and a superhero with allies.

Johnny cooked steaks and roasted peppers while Ben had made potato salad and coleslaw. Sue said, “Anytime I invite guests the boys cook, it’s very nice. We should have guests every night.”

“We’d eat better,” said Ben, she hit him with a dish towel as she got plates, “hey, you opened the door, Susie-Q.” 

They talked about the upcoming school year and about their research and about the Rambler American Johnny was restoring. “Do you get credit for that?” asked Peter.

Johnny seesawed his hand, “It’s worth both Industrial Art and Fine Art credits. The problem is, I’m topped out in both categories.”

“Johnny finished off a high school career’s worth of Gym, Home Ec, Industrial and Fine Art credits in the first semester of homeschooling,” said Sue.

“I shot myself in the knee with that,” said Johnny. “It’s all Math, Science, English, Spanish and History. Kill me. JK, Spanish will do that for me.”

“Get Daredevil to chat with you in Spanish, then all you have to do is sit the tests, he’s a great teacher,” suggested Peter.

“I don’t know him as well as you do,” said Johnny.

“I can ask him for you,” suggested Peter.

“What are you going to do? Pass him a note, ‘Do you like Johnny enough to tutor him,’ with ‘yes’ ‘no’ checkboxes? That’s too awkward.”

Once he and Johnny had cleared the table and Reed had started to put together a fruit salad, Peter took his SpiderPhone out and hit Daredevil’s number the man picked up with a, “Glad you are alive and kicking but if you’re already swinging again, I will kill you myself.”

“No, nowhere near swinging. This is more personal. Y’know how you help me with Spanish? Do you have time to tutor someone else, too?”

“Civilian time? No. The time when I’m being stupid? It depends on if they can give me a hand.”

“It’s Johnny Storm.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine. Ten PM on Tuesdays on the roof of the McGraw Building?” 

Peter relayed the question and Johnny said, “Yes, please and thank you.”

With Daredevil’s hearing, the man didn’t need it repeated, “Tell him not to bother with textbooks; we’ll just talk. Gotta go: Russians.”

“Need help? Not mine, the Four?”

“No.” Daredevil hung up.

Peter said, “See? Not awkward. Don’t bring your textbook, you’re just gonna talk.”

Johnny said he was excited for their Wednesday Reading Club and Sue said, “May, we should start a book club for busy medical professional women raising teen superheroes.”

May had relaxed and laughed, “Sue, I would love that, I really would, but it takes me three months to get through a book at this point.”

Sue nodded, “That’s the beauty of it being a book club for just us. We can customize it. What if we picked a book and read the Wikipedia page? Then we could get together, whenever we have time, to talk about whether or not we would read it in an alternate universe where we have more time. And we won’t have a set day of the week, let’s check in and when we have a chance, not necessarily weekly, we’ll have a glass of wine and talk about a world where we actually have enough time to read Don Quixote.”

May blinked, “I love this idea. All I know about Don Quixote thinks windmills are giants. I would love to know what that’s about.”

“And then The Canterbury Tales?” asked Sue. “Because it came up the other day and I pretended that I’ve read it but I’ve only seen the Knight’s Tale with Heath Ledger. Even if we read the extra pages that go in depth, it would still take just a couple of hours.”

“Sounds great,” said May. “And if we get really into it, maybe we can step it up and be an audiobook club.”

Sue laughed, “I am so excited about this.”

“Me too,” agreed May. They ate fruit salad and May said, “So, Johnny, are you starting class tomorrow or are you on a different schedule?”

He shrugged, “Well, Peter starts tomorrow and I’m not seeing Bobby in person until Friday so I might as well get a start just so I can fill my time and gripe about school with them.”

“So you’re going to start school tomorrow just so you can whine about it?” asked May. 

“I’m not a brain like Peter. The only tests I’ve ever enjoyed were my license tests. I can legally drive literally any vehicle on earth.” 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” asked May. “I know you’re eighteen, but you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “I wanna go to college but I don’t know what I want to study and, as a guy whose toy line is doing really well and has done quite a bit of modeling work, I don’t really need to work. I don’t want to be a model when I grow up. If I’m totally honest? I really wanna just play with cars. I want to build, design, fix and drive cars. I love cars. I understand internal combustion, I understand fire, that’s why my steaks are always perfect. I just get it. I’d love to race cars but I have a tendency to crash. If you wipe out a couple of times and destroy the car and only get out because you can turn yourself into fire, which I have, you start not being a racer and just being a rich kid who is out of his league.”

“So you want to be an engineer,” said Peter.

“No, I want to be a mechanic.”

“Once you start designing cars, you stop being a mechanic and become an engineer,” Peter smiled. “Accept it, Johnny, there is not a single person in this room who isn’t a scientist.”

Johnny said, “But scientists are so nerdy,” it was an over-exaggerated whine. Johnny was well aware of how nerdy he was. Peter thought a lot of Johnny’s problems were just self-confidence issues. Johnny saw himself as the idiot of the Fantastics when he was actually really bright. College would be good for him.

“I’m not a nerd,” said Reed, obviously aiming for the joke.

“Reed, you are the last person who should make the argument,” said Sue, making Peter laugh.

“Peter, don’t laugh: I’m your new boss,” said Reed, which made Peter laugh harder. He tossed his napkin at Peter’s face. 

Sue glanced at her watch, “Well, it’s getting late and I guess two of you have your first days tomorrow.”

May looked at her watch and sighed. Peter asked, “What time is your surgery?”

“I have a six AM scrub time.”

“Craniotomy?” asked Peter. 

“Cranioplasty,” corrected May. 

Sue breathed out, “You two need to go home. It was so lovely meeting you, May. Your kid is great and I can see why.” 

“Do you want help cleaning up?” asked Peter. 

“No, Spidey, you go home and get a good night’s sleep and we’ll see you soon.” 

In the car, May said, “Well.”

Peter grinned at her, “I know, right? All of my friends are great.”

“Such a nice family. I can see why you go to play board games with them. And they’re very welcoming, I can see why you feel comfortable enough to eat all their food.”

“I really like my friends. I was never friends with Tony Stark, not really. Rhodey, kinda, Bruce, definitely, and maybe JARVIS, but never the rest of them. Clint was a pleasant surprise. The Fantastics weren’t my allies or my heroes, they’re just my friends.” 

“Well, now I’m in a genuinely achievable book club.”

Peter snorted, “You guys agreed to meet up on an unscheduled basis and drink wine while talking about Wikipedia.”

“I know,” she grinned, “it’s the first book club where I might actually finish the reading. I’m looking forward to it.” After a moment she said, “It was nice to see you so comfortable with them and see that they didn’t treat you like a guest but just like a friend. Seeing you helping Johnny in the kitchen… I’m glad to know that there were good people and good relationships before Steve Rogers broke your leg.”

“I was friends with them before I met Tony Stark.”

“Johnny is a genius, isn’t he?”

Peter smiled, “Really smart, just doesn’t realize it because his interests aren’t in line with the rest of his family. He’s really, really smart.”

“It’s a weird thing to say, having seen him smiling on the cover of so many supermarket tabloids, but he could use a little more self-confidence.”

Nodding, Peter said, “I think college would be good for him. He needs to see that sometimes he’s the smartest person in a room full of smart people. He needs to graduate with honors, and then it will finally sink in that he’s smart.”

They turned on the stereo, taking turns with the music until they reached the bridge home and May turned off the radio and said, “So, tomorrow, I won’t be home when you wake up and I am going to miss our first day of school traditions.”

“May, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m more concerned about me missing them than you,” she said with a laugh.

“You’ll be fine too and we’ll have pancakes and eggs for dinner instead of breakfast.”

They had always had a big breakfast instead of cereal and the first day of school. May smiled, “Sounds good. And I should be home by the time you get home, it’s only an eight-hour shift tomorrow. But it’s going to be one surgery all day.”

“I’m really gonna be okay, May. I’m walking to the subway with MJ and Ned and then I will sit for as much of the ride to Manhattan as possible. And I don’t have Gym tomorrow so I won’t worry about wearing pants in Gym, yet. It’s going to be assemblies, figuring out which class needs which notebooks and nothing else. Easy peasy, not my first rodeo, May. I am going to a school I know with friends I like. Freshman year the first day is scary, after that, it’s up there was one of the easiest days of the school year. All I have to do is register my internship and go to an Academic Decathlon meeting.”

“What about marching band?”

He sighed, “I quit for three reasons. A) Spider-Man takes up a lot of time. B) It’s kind of something you get bullied about in high school, not like middle school. C) I was never very good at playing the clarinet and I never really liked it. Ben liked the clarinet, he liked playing and he liked that I played. But now it won’t hurt his feelings for me to say, it was never my thing. I did it for him. He liked seeing me at the games in a uniform. I never liked it very much and now it makes me sad because it was his thing.”

“Oh, honey, he loved watching you play but if it’s not your thing, that’s okay, you’ve got great grades, academic decathlon and not one but two prestigious internships. I am pretty sure you’ll get into college.”

“I’m scared MJ might go power mad as the new captain of the Decathlon team. She seems the type to go despotic.”

“Agreed,” said May. They pulled up to the house and May unbuckled as she said, “PJs and ice cream?”

“PJs for you, swimsuit for me. You have a six AM scrub, I have a six fifteen alarm.”

“Lights out at ten, Pete.”

Nodding Peter said, “Sure, nothing crazy, just a few tumbling passes before bed.”

“Weather should break soon.”

“Not too soon, I hope,” said Peter. “I am worried about my mood this year, when it gets cold.”

“We’ll handle it when it comes,” she shrugged. 

They headed upstairs and Peter looked around his room, it was nothing but Spider-Man and nice superheroes. He breathed out slowly and changed. He grabbed his beach towel in the kitchen he said, “I really love my room makeover.”

“I’m glad, sweetie. What are you and Johnny calling it? Not the Spider Cave.”

“Spidey Space,” said Peter. “I put Arkham up on the top of the bookshelf, where I have a great view from the hammock.”

She smiled and got the ice cream out of the freezer as he got the spoons and bowls. “So are you excited?”

“I mean… I’m excited for Decathlon season. I’m excited to be taking AP Physics because once I get that out of the way I can take IB Physics HL and I’m pumped for that but I gotta do AP first. I’m thrilled I argued the point with my advisor last year because, supposedly, sophomores can’t take the AP but I am so ready. But, honestly, is anyone excited to go back to work after a vacation? I’m excited to be getting closer to college.”

“Don’t wish my years with you under my roof,” she said, scooping them both ice cream.

“Who says I’m moving out? Spider-Man is Queens’ hero. If I lived in a dorm I would have to drag myself back every night. Maybe I’d live on campus Freshman year for the experience but a having a roommate is asking to get caught… I don’t know. It’s still a little ways off.”

“Girlfriends aren’t going to be interested in that bedroom, Peter. That is a very y chromosome bedroom.”

Peter chuckled, accepting a bowl, “I didn’t decorate the room for a girl. And, if we got to that point, I feel like I would have told her the truth, so maybe seeing the Spidey Space would be a good thing… besides, the internet says women prefer to have sex in their own beds.”

“What were you googling to get there?” asked May, eyebrow going up.

“I honestly, don’t remember that, it was hours into a google hole, I might well looking up what thread count means. And, if Mr. Watson puts his house on the market before then, it won’t matter.”

May laughed, “What about the Ditkovich place?”

Peter smiled, “That would work, but the hideous wallpaper is everywhere, even the bathroom. So it would take more work.”

They talked about May’s surgery in the morning, and she said, “And invite MJ and Ned over for dinner for next Saturday for your birthday. We’ll have them, Kitty, Bobby and Johnny. Kitty and Bobby can sleep over and we’ll bring them back in the morning when we go for rehab.”

“Awesome. Pot roast?”

“Pot roast,” she agreed.

After they loaded the dishwasher, May said, “I hope it’s a great day, Peter, I’m sorry I won’t be here.”

“May, you took off weeks while we were in Westchester, I totally understand and someone needs cranioplasty.”

She kissed his forehead. “Love you, not too long on the splash pad.”

“I love you too, sleep well.” 

She went upstairs and he went to the yard, turning on the sprinklers, He went to playing, doing easy walkovers and simple tumbling layouts. He kept it easy because he didn’t want to fall. After fifteen minutes he turned off the sprinklers and just laid in a puddle, looking up at the stars. Smiling he said, “Goodbye, summer, hello, life.” He dried off and went into the house, locking the door behind himself. May had turned on the air-conditioning in his room for him. He had stopped sleeping with Wicket but he turned on his new Johnny Storm nightlight. Johnny hadn’t made fun of the nightlight, nor had anyone at the Foundation. It helped to not wake up in the total dark. He changed into PJs and climbed under the sheets, setting his alarm and a backup.

He woke up, hating the birds for singing, he rolled out of bed and opened his door. There were three “Yay!” balloons attached to his doorknob, making him smile. He went into the bathroom and got ready for the day. He dressed and grabbed his mostly empty new backpack, looking at the balloons he tied them to his wrist to bring them downstairs. In the kitchen, he saw a small box. Opening it, he saw a panda bear shaped pencil sharpener with pencils shaped like bamboo shoots. There was a note that said, “Love you! Don’t forget your lunch money and there is a new variety box of Pop-Tarts above the fridge.” Peter got the stool, too sleepy for wall crawling and got out four packs. He put three in his bag and opened one to toast. He texted May as he pulled on his shoes. “Thank you for the balloons, the cool pencils and sharpener and the Pop-Tarts. I am hating being awake but loving my stuff!”

He grabbed the warm Pop-Tarts from the toaster and wrapped them in a bit of paper towel. He heard feet on the porch and picked up his bag. He made it to the front door before his friends could knock. “Why are school days so freaking early?”

“Why do you have balloons tied to you?” asked MJ.

Peter looked up and said, “I forgot. I just mean to bring them down. It’s too early. First day traditions.” He held out his Pop-Tarts. “Don’t eat my breakfast.” She took them so Peter could remove the balloons from his wrist and tie them to the inner doorknob. 

“Hey, May!” Ned called. 

“She’s in surgery,” said Peter, shutting and locking the door behind himself and taking his Pop-Tarts back “So what did you guys get as back to school gifts?”

“You guys get back to school gifts?” asked MJ.

Peter had forgotten that they hadn’t really been friends until halfway through last school year. “You don’t?” asked Ned.

“No, school is the gift,” she said. 

“You’re so weird,” said Ned.

“You have no room to say that,” she said.

Ned had gotten a lightsaber pen for his first day and Peter ate his Pop-Tarts and listened to his friends talk, walking to the Subway. MJ joked that Peter seemed like the type to be a morning person and Peter shrugged, “Give it a couple of weeks. It takes time for me to learn to fake it.” They went to the subway and Peter said, “Did you guys remember lunch money or are you brown bagging it?”

MJ and Ned exchanged a look, “While you were in Westchester a bill went through: free school lunches for all,” said MJ. 

“So you’re saying I have seven bucks to spend on heroin?”

“I don’t think seven dollars would get you much heroin,” said MJ.

“And how do you know about the price of heroin?” asked Ned. 

“I don’t, I’m guessing that seven bucks wouldn’t buy us a good time,” said MJ. A seat opened up and she pushed Peter into it, “Sit, walking wounded.” The rest of the ride was uneventful but he held MJ and Ned’s backpacks in his lap when it filled up. One woman gave him side-eye. MJ saw and said, “He has a concussion you chose to wear very high heels on the subway even though your giant purse would have fit them and you could have worn sneakers he doesn’t get to choose not to get woozy.”

“MJ, don’t pick a fight on the first day of school,” said Ned. 

They got to their stop and managed to squeeze their way out. They lined up at the door to get into the gym to get their schedules and were thrilled to see that they all shared a homeroom class and the same lunch and Gym periods. MJ was in his English class and Ned was in his Shop class and all three of them were in Calc together. They went to their homeroom to check in and then were back in the gym for an assembly. Then it was time for club fair and Peter hung out with MJ at the Decathlon booth while Ned went and signed up for everything he could while also doing his internship. As he helped people sign up MJ said, “No phones at meetings save for family emergencies and internships.”

Flash was coming over and said, “Guess Penis Parker doesn’t have to worry about internships calling this year what with his mentor going down for child abuse.”

Peter breathed out slowly, “I have an internship with Reed Richards.”

“Bullshit,” said Flash, angrily. 

“He wrote a letter to Reed back in June,” said MJ without looking up, “reminding him of when they met at Stark Industries and Reed offered him an internship. Then Peter started hanging out with Johnny Storm. Then Ned and I started hanging out with Johnny and now Ned also has an internship with Reed and I’m working with Sue Storm. And all of your BS last year, questioning Peter’s internship, was pretty obviously jealousy. And before you start up all that pettiness this year, please keep in mind that I am going to run this club a lot tighter than Liz did. Decathlon is not a democracy; it’s a cheer-ocracy, I am the cheer-tator.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” said Flash. 

“That’s a classic movie reference,” said Peter. “Are you signing up or walking away?”

The other boy looked irritated as he signed up. Peter’s phone rang and he said, “Speak of the devil,” he put it on speaker as he answered and said, “Johnny, you’re on speakerphone, say hey to MJ.”

“Hey, MJ, how is your first day going?”

MJ leaned toward the phone and said, “All we’ve done is get schedules, sat in an assembly and now we’re at club fair.”

Laughing Johnny said, “How many clubs has Ned signed up for? He remembers that Reed wants at least seven hours a week, right?” MJ just laughed. “I’m calling for two reasons, the first is that when Sue asked Reed if he had remembered to give you and Ned your internship papers he couldn’t remember because he’s the vaguest bastard in the universe, Pete.”

“Yeah, he gave them to me and Ned on Sunday,” Peter answered. 

“Good, ‘cause Sue would have been pissed if she was the only one on the ball,” said Johnny, making Peter laugh. “Secondly: are you guys hanging out at your house tonight or are you rushing about doing stuff? Do you get homework the first day?”

“No, just hanging out. Y’wanna come play on the splash pad?”

“Yes please.”

“Cool, oh, um before I forget. Dinner? Not this Saturday but next. Pot Roast for my birthday. Your boyfriend, Cat, MJ and Ned will be there.”

“I am one hundred percent in for pot roast. And I like all of those people. Have I thanked you today for introducing me to my boyfriend?”

“You’re welcome. We gotta go, we need more decath-letes.”

“Cool, I will pick you three up from school today and drive you back home.”

“Johnny, you’re the best,” said MJ. 

“And you’re the prettiest girl in the universe. Love you, Peter.”

“Love you too, Johnny.”

“Love you, MJ,” said Johnny. 

She rolled her eyes and said, “We’re not there, yet, Johnny.”

He laughed and hung up. Flashed had his mouth open and said, “You have to invite me to your birthday party.”

“No,” said Peter. 

“Come on,” whined Flash. 

“I, the guy you’ve called Penis Parker since the fourth grade, am not going to invite you, a spiteful bully who pushed me into lockers until I got taller than him, to my birthday party. I’m never going to introduce you to Johnny because he’s nice and you’re not. You’ve never been to my house; you’ve never been pleasant to me for even a second. I’m not going to let you use me because you’ve suddenly figured out that I was telling the truth every time I said I was working for a super scientist. And don’t even think about trying to whine your way into an invite: you’re not coming. Now go away.”

As he walked away MJ called after him, “First club meeting is tomorrow at lunch.” She turned to him and arched an eyebrow.

“Sorry I made it awkward.”

“Are you kidding me? Tiger, that was awesome,” she said, making him laugh. “So birthday pot roast?”

“Didn’t we talk about this on the way to the Subway?” he asked, confused. 

“You grunted a few times and ate Pop-Tarts. I don’t think you were awake enough to start a real conversation.”

“Oh, well, my birthday is not this Saturday but next Saturday. May is making pot roast, Cat and Ice are coming for a sleepover. And if you and Ned want to stay over too, we can figure it out.”

“Sounds fun,” she said. 

After club fair was over they headed over to the admin office to file their internship paperwork. There were dozens of other kids in line and MJ said, “Hold my spot, I need to pee.” She shoved her folder at Peter, “Hold please.” 

It took twenty minutes to get to the front of the line and just as he was finishing up Principal Morita stepped out of his office and smiled, “Mr. Parker, I’m glad to see you’re okay, you were missed in the spring semester. Do you have a few minutes?” Peter started to look for his schedule and the man added, “You have a two-hour break for lunch, finding your locker and organizing anything you have to before having fifteen-minute versions of your classes.”

“Then I have time for you, sir.”

“Great,” the man smiled, “come in. I want to hear about your summer and the time you missed.”

Peter shot a quick smile to his friends and went into the office, closing the door behind himself. He glanced at the wall and saw the picture of the Howling Commandoes. Principal Morita’s grandfather was Jim Morita. Peter quickly averted his eyes as he sat down. “Sir, thank you so much for allowing me back. I know that I missed a lot of school and it means a lot.”

“Your work has always been good, it was still high quality when you sent it from the hospital. We don’t hold kids back or expel them for getting injured. How are you feeling?”

“My head is still a little fuzzy at times,” he lied. “It was a really bad concussion.”

“I can’t legally ask this, so feel free to not answer, but what the heck happened?”

“I stood on a high lab table to change a fluorescent bulb that had been going on and off and bugging everyone. I slipped and fell off the table right on to my head, even got a hairline fracture in my skull. It sucked going from a science retreat long weekend to a long-term hospital but, it is what it is.”

“Poor you, that sounds awful.”

“It was rough,” agreed Peter. “I was just pleased I got extensions on my work and there wasn’t a penalty for me handing in my textbooks late.”

“You weren’t in control of what happened to you, you couldn’t be held accountable. I was looking at your school file, reviewing for this conversation. I saw that the anniversary of your uncle’s death was only last week. How are you doing?”

“It’s been a hard year, between his death, my injury and my mentor going to prison, y’know? But my aunt and I went to Coney Island for the day and went on all the rides: celebrated getting through the last year. We tried to make it happy. Got a little weepy in the fireworks, but, that was to be expected. I’m doing okay.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re holding up. And you have a new internship? That’s what you were registering, I assume.”

Peter smiled, “I scored an internship with the Fantastics in the Baxter building. And then I netted Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones ones too.”

The man laughed, “How did you do that?”

“I wrote a letter to Reed, reminding him of when we met through the Stark Internship, reminding him of how much he admired my work and asking if he might be interested in continuing it. He was pumped. And then I hit it off with Johnny, introduced him to MJ and Ned and some friends from the Stark internship we all went to hang out at his place. Ned and MJ talked to Reed, just chatting, and he was really interested in Ned’s robotics and Sue was interested in MJ’s math so now everyone has an internship and Ned, Johnny and I are going to read our weekly comics together on Wednesdays.”

“Very cool. And who are the other friends?”

“The Xavier School works with Stark interns, it lets kids with the mutant gene see that not everyone is a bigot and it lets kids without the gene see that mutant teens aren’t weird.”

“You know a lot of people,” said Principal Morita.

“I’m a friendly guy,” Peter shrugged. “I like having friends and I’m nerdy so a lot of mainstream kids don’t think I’m cool enough to be friends with. Johnny and Ice disagree. They’re nice guys. And now my aunt and Sue Storm have started a book club for women who are too busy to read because they are medical professionals raising teenage boys, so that’s nice.”

“If they are too busy to read, what are they reading?”

“Wikipedia pages about books they want to read.” The man laughed and Peter smiled, “They haven’t made fun of us for our comic book cook club so I can’t make fun. But I really want to.” 

“Any reading for pleasure is good reading. So, I have a hypothetical question for you, as someone who has spent time around superheroes.” Peter’s stomach clenched. He hoped he was wrong about where the man was going, he really did. But he had gone to the Stark Retreat the same day Spider-Man went missing. Spider-Man was too hurt for school and so was he. Spider-Man was a fifteen-year-old science nerd who knew Tony Stark and so was he. He held his breath, hoping against hope. “Say you were a high school principal and you suspected one of your kids was a superhero, what do you think the correct course of action would be?”

There it was, Peter tried to keep breathing. He swallowed and bought himself time. “Well, I would say we should cut through the hypothetical and bring it closer to home. You are more than just a principal. You are a highly respected educator who is well-liked by your students. I would also say, for this, it’s safe to assume you think a student might be Spider-Man. A teenage science whiz from New York might well be at Midtown School of Sci Tech. So, not an unreasonable assumption. In fact, it’s statistically probable. And I think I’m a great person to ask because I know superheroes and I love comic books. But I would ask you how well you know the student. I have mostly come into contact with superheroes who don’t have a secret identity. But I know from comic books and common sense that secret identities are held very dearly by superheroes. They keep you and your loved ones safe. So do you think it’s your place to ask? Do you feel entitled to demand to be let into this kid’s private life? I would also ask what you would get out of knowing a secret you weren’t invited into? From comic books, I know that what knowing a superhero’s identity does is make you a target for bad guys to torture for information or use for bait. Knowing isn’t a good thing. I would further ask what he gets out of telling you? What is the benefit of him making himself vulnerable? Like, can you think of an upside?” he waited for the man to answer, curious as to what he would say.

“I would be more accepting of him skipping school,” said the man. 

“Doesn’t that seem a bit tawdry to you? His closely held secret in exchange for a detention pass?” asked Peter.

“No, it wouldn’t be like that, I could help him find excuses, be more understanding.”

Peter nodded, “Well, if you are pretty sure you know who he is, do you need confirmation? Can’t you just be a little lenient with him? Do you need him to strip off what little security he still feels he has after he was tortured and had his leg badly broken? Because if you do need those words, then I think the answer is that he’s just going to have to suffer through punishments. And I think, if you do decide to ask him, you should take the picture of Steve Rogers off the wall. It would be terrifying to have someone encroach on the safety of your anonymity. Having the guy who broke your leg and claimed to be the good guy while you were starving to death and freezing cold watching it happen would make it worse. You might want to take that down anyway. If you have a picture of your grandfather with, like, Peggy Carter, or Dum Dum Dugan, that would be cool. Or just a picture of him. As it is… in fifty years people will talk about Steve Rogers and say, ‘He fought the Nazis.’ And someone else will say, ‘He also tortured children.’ I get wanting a picture of your grandfather and the Commandoes in your office because they were badasses, but it’s weird having a picture of a man who tortured a kid in a high school. Does that fully answer your question?”

“Very thoroughly and with a lot of insight I don’t have.” He stood and took the photo from the wall, “You’re completely right about that being creepy. I’m just really proud of my grandfather.”

“Obviously, Jim Morita was always my favorite after Captain America. And Cap was a superhero which trumps real heroes when you’re a kid. Jim was faced with internment camp or joining the Army. And he picked fighting for a country that didn’t fight for him. What America did to Japanese Americans was disgusting and they have never fully apologized, never made any real form of reparations and he voluntarily fought in one of the most elite and dangerous units there was. That’s incredible strength of character. I’d be proud too: he’s an actual hero. I think my answer would have been to flee to Mexico because I’m not fighting for a government that would do that to me or my family.”

The man smiled, “I tend to agree with you. I know the after effects of a concussion can last years — maybe all the way through senior year — if you need a little more time on assignments, or sick days to sit in a dark room, or if you have to leave unexpectedly, just have Dr. Strange send a note. We can work around this. You’re a good kid and a good student and the school is on your team.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Go catch up with your friends, congrats on your internship. I’m looking forward to a great semester.”

Peter stood and smiled, “Me too, sir.” 

He walked out and saw his friends he waved but walked directly into the bathroom where he quickly put the seat up and bent at the waist to puke. You couldn’t pay him a hundred bucks to kneel in the school’s boys’ room. 

“Peter, are you okay?” asked Ned as he stepped inside. “You were white as a sheet walking out of the office.” 

“Concussion,” Peter offered.

“We’re alone and I am leaning against the door to keep anyone out,” said Ned. 

“MJ’s theory of me being persona non grata doesn’t work with the Principal.”

Ned was silent, then he said, “Do you need to flee?” 

“No, I need lunch, I just lost my six Pop-Tarts.”

“What did he say?”

“Tell you after school.” He rinsed his mouth and said, “Do you have any mints?” Ned got out Ticktacks and shook some into Peter’s hand. “Thank you.”

He rolled them around his mouth, sucking to get rid of the flavor and smell of vomit. “You okay?” asked Ned, studying him. 

“No, but I can fake it.” He adjusted his backpack, MJ fell into step with them, she raised an eyebrow and Peter shook his head. He spotted his locker on the way and paused to test the combination. It opened easily. He shut it and spun the lock. In the lunch room, he saw there were no longer tills and he filled his tray up with everything he wanted. “I love food,” he said and took a bite of his pizza. “Cafeteria pizza is literally nothing like pizza but it’s beautiful in its own way.”

“It’s disgusting,” said MJ.

“Not if you think of it as bread with stuff on it. Think of it as its own creature.” He took bites of salad between bites of pizza and some sort of pasta salad thing. “So are we skipping homeroom?” Finished his pasta salad and moved on to apple slices. 

“In perpetuity or today?” asked MJ. “Because I feel it’s a good way to end the day. But it’s optional today.” Peter chuckled as he started his PB&J. “This is almost impressive,” she said waving her finger between him and his tray.

“Flash is watching us,” said Ned. “Kind of disconcerting.”

“I try to pay as little attention as possible to Flash,” said Peter. “Not my problem until he’s in my face.”

He was halfway through his pudding when MJ said, “English, you and me.” 

Peter nodded and said, “Have fun without us, Ned.”

“You too.”

Peter cleared his tray and said, “Thanks, Nancy, really good lunch,” taking his pudding and spoon with him. 

The lunch lady smiled, “Bye, Peter.” 

“See you tomorrow.” 

He and MJ slid into desks next to each other. Unfortunately, Flash came in. Peter sighed and focused on the teacher. They got syllabuses and a list of supplies then were handed copies of Hamlet and told they would discuss Act One scenes One and Two on Friday. Peter wrote notes on the syllabus of what type of notepad the teacher wanted. They left and he went to Spanish, only needing to introduce himself in Spanish and say that his favorite color and season. He got the syllabus, wrote notes and was handed a textbook. He went to World History and saw Flash there, which was a bummer. He sat in the second row and paid attention, ignoring Flash, he got his textbooks, got his syllabus and took notes. He went to Shop, sat next to Ned and saw Flash saunter in too. He went to Calc with Ned, meeting MJ on the way and, when they got there, he saw Flash. He tried to ignore it and got his textbook. They went to Gym and there was Flash. “Flash is in more of my classes than either of you,” he whispered. “Five so freaking far.”

“Sucks,” MJ whispered back. 

The gym teacher, Coach Wilson, spoke in his usual monotone. “I gotta show you this video with Steve Rogers. Still required by the state. I’m not happy about it either but it’s about not trying to peak up each other’s shorts.”

On the TV Steve appeared and Peter felt kind of sick. He felt Flash’s eyes on him and he muttered to his friends. “Flash is watching us.”

Steve said, “Hi, I’m Captain America.” 

It was Betty Brant who loudly said, “No you aren’t,” making people laugh. 

Steve lectured them all on sexual harassment. At the end Steve said, “Any questions?” and paused as though he was listening.

Someone called out, “Sexual harassment is wrong but isn’t illegal imprisonment kinda worse?” 

Steve said, “Great question, I’m going to direct that to my good friend, your Gym teacher.”

Coach Wilson said, “We are not friends. Yes, on a legal scale illegal imprisonment is worse. Don’t imprison each other but, in this room, we’re gonna focus on not harassing or assaulting each other. Be better people than Steve Rogers.”

“Excellent answer, friend.”

“Not friends,” Coach Wilson interjected.

“If you have any more questions, check out Respect.com, and keep talkin’ to my friend, your Gym teacher.”

The tape ended and Coach Wilson said, “Tomorrow, bring gym clothes and sneakers. And remember, the state says a sports bra does not a shirt make.”

“What about cheerleader uniforms?” asked MJ. “That’s a sports bra.”

“A very valid question, but I don’t have an answer. I’m not writing any of you up because your bodies aren’t my business but, again, officially, a sports bra does not a shirt make. And we will be climbing ropes next week and you don’t want rope burn on your abdomen. Okay, leave.”

There was time to pee and Peter was really looking forward to his last class, AP Physics. He stopped by his locker to put away his textbooks and he found a Hershey’s Kiss and note, “I don’t know what the Principal said. I’m sorry Flash exists. But here’s a Kiss. Day’s over soon.” MJ had signed it and Peter smiled, eating the Kiss. He was tired, his leg was starting to hurt, and went to pee. 

Then Flash was there. “Are you stalking me?” asked Peter. “You are everywhere today.”

“I didn’t know your schedule when I picked mine. How is your leg?”

“Why would my leg be a problem?” asked Peter.

“Because Steve Rogers broke it in two places,” said Flash. 

Peter tilted his head as he washed his hands, “You think I’m Spider-Man?”

“Your limp has been getting worse all day,” said Flash.

Peter dried his hands saying, “So this morning I’m Penis Parker and then I get an internship with Reed Richards so I’m Spider-Man?” 

“You’re limping,” said Flash. “It all lines up: science, fifteen, friends with Stark, never shuts up, likes Star Wars, doesn’t have a mom, friends with Johnny Storm, eats way too much, bitchy when provoked.” 

“So, you think the reason I get internships and you don’t is just ‘cause I’m Spider-Man. Hate to break it to you, but that’s not it.”

Flash shook his head, “No, you’re smart. I can believe you are doing real work and they want to work with you but I don’t think you got those internships based on letters.”

Peter said, “I’m going to class.”

“I’m probably in it,” said Flash.

“Not unless you talked your way into AP Physics.” 

Peter walked quickly to AP Physics and found a seat in the front. “Hey Peter,” said Mr. Soffelus. 

“Hey, Mr. Soffelus, thanks again for letting me in.”

“Of course, how is your head?”

“Still fuzzy some days,” said Peter. 

“As long as you’re back. Guys, I know all of you but Peter is a sophomore so let’s go around: Peter Parker is awesome.” Mr. Soffelus. 

Everyone introduced themselves, though he knew some, and then Mr. Soffelus went over the syllabus and asked them to read the intro for Friday. He gave them their textbooks and said, “I want written summaries on Friday, I want to check out your writing skills. It’s gonna be a hard year but you are all going to rock it. You are going to learn the hell out of this material. I don’t want to teach the test. I want to teach you to make you think the test at the end is a joke. I want you to rock up to the test in sunglasses with a Starbucks because you know that you know so much more than they would ask. I know that being detached is cool in high school but this is science school, you took the test to get in, you all worked to get into this class and you are badasses. Apathy has no place in this room, and all of you know that, so in here we are a team. As your team captain, we will be leaving seven minutes early. If you want to be kind, bring candy to class, it’s the last period of the day and my blood sugar goes down so does yours a little bit of candy can really help you focus.” Peter paused and then half raised his hand, “Peter, do you have a question about candy?”

“My aunt just upgraded her coffee machine. I don’t drink coffee but do you want the old coffee pot?”

“Yes!” said Mr. Soffelus, emphatically.

Betty raised her had, “I have a job at Starbucks and get four free pounds of coffee a month.”

“Perfect! I will get creamer and sugar and the Splenda and I can supplement the coffee if we need more than that. Candy is still a good idea some people don’t drink coffee. Okay team, break.” He clapped his hands once and gathered up his stuff, putting it in a briefcase. 

“Peter,” said Betty, coming over as he packed his backpack.

Peter smiled, “Hey, Betty. Are you doing the morning show again this year?”

“I am. I heard you got an internship with Reed Richards?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty excited.”

“What time is your study period?”

“Third,” he said, and hoped Flash wouldn’t be in it. That was the one period he hadn’t had on his schedule that day. 

She smiled. “Yes, God loves me: wanna be my study buddy? Two days a week, you can pick which ones.” Lowering her voice she said, “I had the highest GPA in Chem and Comp Sci last year. I can help you, you can help me. We will push each other to greatness. I can bribe you with pastries?”

“You don’t need to bribe me, but I will always be grateful for pastries.”

“Pastries you will receive. We’re gonna fight over the top spot, you and me.”

She smiled and bounced out of the room. He went to his locker to swap things out, taking only a couple of books so that he could work ahead a little. He went outside and saw Johnny sitting in a giant four-door convertible next to the school. “What the heck, Johnny? This car is giant.”

“It’s a 1961 Lincoln Continental Convertible. Nice day for a cruise to Queens and plenty of room for passengers.” He patted the seat and said, “Come, tell me all about your day.”

“How was yours?” asked Peter.

“Evasive,” observed Johnny. “Mine was fine. I have a paper due Tuesday. Don’t become a senior, Peter. Also, I pissed of Reed because my mnemonics for Chem are kind of obscene but whatever. He’s super pissy about it. Like, unnecessarily pissy.” Flash started toward the car and Peter sighed. “What?”

“Flash,” said Peter.

“Fuck that noise,” said Johnny and turned toward Flash, put up a hand and said, “Stop right there.” Flash stopped. “When Peter was going to introduce me to MJ and Ned I didn’t wanna because I don’t like new people and he said, ‘Don’t worry, they’re great; I’ll never introduce you to Flash.’ Peter isn’t a liar. Now turn around and walk away. Walk away.” He made shooing hand motions and turned back to Peter, “You make one filthy sentence about a guy’s mom and he’s a dickweed all day. So what was good about yours?”

“AP Physics is gonna be fun. Betty asked me to study with her, which is good. My teacher loves me ‘cause I offered him an old coffee machine. We had to watch one of those stupid Captain America PSAs in Gym, people just heckled it. That was fun. Lunch was good. Not much happened.”

“Something happened,” said Johnny.

“Wait, okay, just wait?”

“Okay,” agreed Johnny. He squeezed Peter’s knee and Peter gasped, “Shit, sorry.”

“Stress makes it worse.” Peter rubbed his calf.

“I try to comfort you and hurt you instead.”

“It’s not you, my leg has been getting tighter all day.”

“Stress,” said Johnny.

“Just wait, until we’re away from school,” said Peter. “MJ Kissed me.” Johnny’s jaw fell open. “Well, she left a chocolate Kiss in my locker but...”

“You’re a goddamn tease, y’know that?” asked Johnny shaking his head. Peter just smiled. 

MJ and Ned came out and Johnny waved. “Friends,” he called, “get in, losers, we’re going to play at Peter’s house.”

MJ came over and said, “So pretty. All of your cars are so pretty.”

“Thanks, rebuilt her myself. It’s a cruising car.”

“JFK would disagree,” said MJ climbing in.

They got underway and Johnny said, “Okay, we’re away from school. What the hell happened?”

“The principal and Flash both know that I’m Spider-Man.”

“What the hell?” said Johnny.

Peter told them about the conversation and Johnny stopped him. “Wait, wait, wait. So he says, ‘I could make excuses for you if you tell me you’re Spidey.’ You say, ‘Do you legit need confirmation?’ And he said, ‘Get a superhero to write a doctor’s note the next time you blow off class to fight crime.’”

“Essentially,” said Peter.

“Hall pass,” said Johnny.

“No,” said Peter.

“C’mon. We could go to Six Flags and just get Strange to say you had a headache,” whined Johnny. 

“No,” said Peter with a laugh. “Supering emergencies only.”

“Flash knowing is a problem,” said MJ. 

“Big problem,” agreed Peter.

“You show him up in class and he is liable to just shout out, ‘Hey, everyone, Peter is Spider-Man,’” said MJ. 

“I can scare the shit out of him?” offered Johnny. 

“Let’s talk to May, she’s smart and has life experience,” said Peter.

“Good call, what else happened today, guys? I crave a public school experience through you.”

“Lunch was disgusting,” said MJ.

“Pete said lunch was good,” said Johnny. 

“Peter’s just excited that it’s free now,” said Ned. 

They talked and laughed, and discussed what had happened in the classes they didn’t share. Ned watched someone watch porn in the computer lab. “It was a fifteen-minute class; he couldn’t pay attention on the first day?”

“What kinda porn?” asked MJ. 

“Asian lesbians, I think,” said Ned, “I was really trying to pay attention to the teacher but it was distracting. I was trying to ignore it. But, I mean, something silent on a screen in the corner of your eye is distracting as hell, I am going to have to change chairs tomorrow. The problem is, desks become kind of cemented after the first week.”

MJ’s art class seemed moments away from breaking out bongos and Peter just bitched about Flashed being in so many of his classes. “He’s not in our homeroom,” said MJ.

“Thank goodness; I can’t deal with him that early,” Peter groaned. “Five classes, you guys.” 

Johnny put on music and then danced along, relaxing into the afternoon. Johnny kept a comforting hand on Peter most of the time. Peter appreciated it. His leg was still killing him. “Love you, Spidey. It’ll be okay,” he whispered, knowing Peter would hear and the others wouldn’t. Peter squeezed Johnny’s wrist in response. As they entered Queens, Johnny turned the music down, “Has everyone left a swimsuit at Peter’s by now?” MJ and Ned both confirmed it. “Peter, do you think I could stay for dinner? Reed’s really pissed.”

“Let me text May; she’ll have an easier time saying no if she isn’t seeing your puppy dog eyes,” said Peter, pulling out his phone. “I hope you like breakfast for dinner.” 

“OMG, who doesn’t?” said Johnny. 

“Eggs, pancakes, hash browns and oatmeal,” said Peter. “Usually we have a big breakfast on the first day of school to ease the blow of being awake. But May had surgery.”

“I love everything on that list.”

“‘Of course, Johnny is a pleasure as a guest,’” he read aloud.

They pulled up to the house and Johnny said, “Would May mind if I pulled into the driveway? It’s big to park on the street.”

“It’s cool,” said Peter. They went inside and May said, “There are my three favorite sophomores and my favorite senior. How did it go?”

“Flash and Principal Morita know I’m Spider-Man,” said Peter. “Also can I have the old coffee machine?”

“Yes, that’s fine, explain the first part for me,” she sat down heavily on the couch. As he walked her through the story she grew grayer and grayer. “I know you like the principal but Flash has been a little shit since fourth grade and that’s terrifying. He’s always been a little prick.”

“Can I just point out that tomorrow is the day that the money comes out of the swear jar?” said Peter, trying to make her smile. It backfired. 

“You can have the fucking money, Peter. I thought I didn’t have to worry about… fuck.”

“I say I go to his window tonight, fully flamed on and say, ‘If you screw with my friend, if you talk out of turn about who he may or may not be, I will turn you into ash,’” offered Johnny. “What do you think?”

“I hate the idea of you threatening someone. But, other hand, he’s always been a coward, hiding behind his parents’ money when it looked like he might be in trouble so it might be effective. So it might work, but I’m scared that he would blab the moment a villain came into the school, ‘It’s not us you want; it’s Peter Parker.’ I don’t know if it would work and I don’t want you to have to do something so out of character.” 

“Friends come first,” said Johnny. “If it could help at all, I’m willing.” 

“I would like Sue to sign off on that, not me,” said May. 

Johnny pouted, “I’m eighteen.”

“Sweetie, I’ll want your sister signing off on things when you’re thirty.”

“That hardly seems fair,” said Johnny, sounding indignant. 

“Life’s not fair,” said May. “Would you invite her to dinner, please?” 

Johnny nodded and pulled out his phone and hit only one button. Then he said, “Hey, how is our encryption level on the phone?... ‘Kay. Spidey is having a rough day and his mom asked if you could come to dinner because he may or may not have a problem in his civilian life and she wants another mother to talk about it with… also, it’s breakfast for dinner so can you really pass that up?... Right?... I’ll ask.” He smiled at May. “Would you like Sue to come now or just for dinner?”

“As soon as she is willing to. I can offer her wine, coffee, conversation: whatever she wants.”

“ASAP: May’s freaking out and needs a grownup to talk to. The four teenagers aren’t good enough… okay, see you soon.” Hanging up he said, “I know the situation sucks but my sister is thrilled you like her enough to invite her over. She didn’t say that; she’d be irritated if she knew I was telling you. We kind of have a hard time making friends. She’s intimidatingly pretty, she’s mega-rich, she has superpowers and she is a genius. That’s too much for most people, so, the fact that you were into the idea of a Wikipedia reading club and now you’re asking her over to talk about a bad day is really cool for her.”

“She’s a nice girl,” said May with a small smile. “I know you want to hit the splash pad, but now I’m stressed, so I want to hear all about your days. Give me some good news.” They all launched into stories and Peter told her about Betty asking to be his study buddy. “Did you tell her that her mother is a filthy liar?” 

“No, I figured I’d wait a couple of months.”

“Why do you need the old coffee machine?”

“Mr. Soffelus needs one for the class,” said Peter.

“Okay, he can have the filters that fit it,” she said easily.

He fished out the money from his pocket and said, “Public school lunches are free now. Good lunch.”

“It was gross,” said MJ. 

Johnny saw the money and said, “Seven bucks is a lot for a subpar meal.”

“It’s a buck seventy-five,” said May. “I gave Peter enough for four lunches. I feel so sad that he was hungry for so much of last year.”

“I had a lot of Pop-Tarts and nuts, May, I was fine,” Peter assured her. “I wasn’t hungry but I was super excited about eating four lunches.” 

“MJ, how was the new art teacher?” asked May. They talked for a little while and then she breathed out. “Go play. I’ll be okay now.”

“You sure?” asked Peter.

“A hundred percent, go play,” she nodded. Johnny stood and ripped off his tear-away pants. Making everyone laugh. “Oh, Johnny, you are a delight.”

Peter said, “Do you want to play with us?”

“No, sweetie, I’d rather be wearing clothes when Sue comes.”

“I’ll get the water going,” said Johnny as the others headed for the stairs. They changed fast and were soaked and laughing by the time Sue got there. She was grinning at them and Johnny said, “What?” 

“I think of all those celebrities you don’t really like, all the twenty-one and up clubs you shouldn’t be in, all the drink you get handed that you shouldn’t drink and all the poor choice you make with them. Then I come out and find you giggling on a splash pad with age appropriate friends and it makes me happy.” May came out with two glasses of white wine. “Thanks, May.” They pulled over lawn chairs and kicked off their shoes, putting their feet on the splash pad. “Okay, Spidey, walk us through it.”

Peter retold it for the third time. And when he was done Johnny said, “I feel I should flame on and threaten him.”

“Johnny, love you, but you’re not that intimidating,” said Sue.

“I can be intimidating,” protested Johnny. 

“I should go to his house,” said Sue, “to explain why he didn’t get the internship he applied to and the moment his parents leave I say, ‘I hear you’ve been bullying Peter Parker since you were nine. And now you think he’s Spider-Man? Back off my intern you horrible little creep.’” 

“Is it a good idea?” asked Peter. “Is any threat a good idea? What if he isn’t planning on anything and we intimidate him into doing something he wouldn’t have? Plus, right now he is ninety-nine percent sure I’m Spider-Man, you would push it to a hundred.”

“When has he ever not been a complete and total ass hat?” said Ned.

“Swear jar,” said May. 

“But it’s the only way to be accurate,” protested Ned. 

“Swear jar.”

“But Peter is getting the money,” said Ned.

“Yeah, well, swear jar,” she said. “And of course I swore: it’s a fucking shitshow. Of all the people: the principal and Flash.”

“I think Principal Morita is okay,” said Peter, “I think.”

“It’s a mess,” said May. 

“Look, if Peter thinks it’s a bad idea to make a move on this kid,” said Sue. She shrugged and studied him, “You usually have really good instincts.”

Peter shook his head, “People have about ten senses, when you account for stuff like balance, knowing when you’re sick, depth perception. I have an extra one that kinda like precognition but not as cool. I just know when bad stuff is gonna happen. I know when I punch is coming before it’s coming. It’s useful in a fight but ninety percent of the time, I don’t know what I’m feeling. It could be a robbery a block away, a fire in the next building over, someone sneezing near me in a way that will get me sick two days later or a rape in midtown. So usually, outside of fights, it’s just a vague sense of unease.”

“Your superpower is anxiety?” asked MJ.

Peter laughed, “So, yeah, Sue, my instincts are great in a fight but the rest of the time… wasn’t getting a malicious vibe off either of them but they both made me feel nauseous.”

“Did you puke after Flash or just Principal Morita?” asked Ned. 

“I didn’t puke after Flash,” said Peter.

“Did you go as white as you went after you spoke to Principal Morita?” asked MJ.

“I don’t know I wasn’t looking the mirror, I just booked.”

“Booked?” repeated MJ.

“Cat likes Buffy; I watched quite a lot after my concussion got a bit better,” explained Peter. “I don’t know what the best course of action is. I just really hate that I’m scared.”

“How many superheroes are in your cell phone?” asked Sue.

“Thirty-nine,” said Peter. 

“And how many does May have?” she asked. 

“Thirty-nine,” repeated Peter.

“No, she had forty, because she has Spider-Man,” said Sue. “Once you’re done and dried, do a mass text say, ‘My bully and high school principal know I’m Spider-Man. Sue Storm wants to threaten my bully I’m crowdsourcing advice.’ And see what they say. You have backup. You’re not alone. Thirty-nine superheroes have got you.” He moved to get off the splash pad but Sue said, “No, just play, okay, focus on your friends, we will text once you’re done.”

May put her flip-flops on and said, “My superphone is on the kitchen.” 

She left and Sue whispered, “I worried that I came on too strong last night but she was so nice and I need grownup women friends with children.”

“I’m not actually your child, Sue,” pointed out Johnny. 

“You were seven when I fought for custody.”

“She’s excited about your Wikipedia reading club,” said Peter. “She likes you. You didn’t come on too strong. She needs a supermom friend.” 

May came out and said, “The text is sent; we’ll see what advice we get.” She slipped her flip-flops back off. “Who is staying for dinner? MJ, Ned?”

“Mom is expecting me by six,” said MJ. 

“Me too,” said Ned, “well my mom, not MJ’s mom. We’re having tortellini.”

“Cool, just the four of us,” said May. “More wine, Sue?”

“Is it alternate side parking tomorrow?” asked Sue. May shook her head. “Johnny, do you mind driving me?” He shook his head as he hand walked on the splash pad. “I have an extremely high metabolism but it’s good to have a backup plan. I would love another glass. Yes, please.” May topped her up. “How was your cranioplasty?”

They talked medicine and Peter let himself rest in a puddle. His leg was screaming. He tried to rub the pain away and Johnny knelt in front of him, massaging the ache away. “Stress makes it tighter,” Peter reiterated his words from the car.

Johnny pulled Peter’s leg slightly to roll his hip. Peter gasped and bit his lip. Johnny moved to his foot and said, “Push down as I push up,” Peter did as told and almost cried out from the pain. Johnny relaxed the pressure and said, “Breathe.” After a moment he asked, “Again?” Peter nodded and then did it again. Peter tried to breathe through it but he was glad for the water that was hiding his tears. “If you’re gonna spew, spew away from the splash pad.” Peter tried to laugh and managed a weak smile. “I’m gonna move back to your hip, okay?” Peter nodded and let Johnny work him over, trying really hard not to make obvious cry face. Then May was next to him, the pain had distracted him. 

She was holding out pills and a Coke, “Here, I’m texting with Hank.”

“What’s that?” he pointed at little ones. He recognized the others.

“Xanax, Hank wants you to relax and get a good night’s sleep.” Peter swallowed all the pills. “Just relax in the spray.” 

She moved away and he grimaced at his friends, “Sorry, I’m putting a damper on the afternoon.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you wanted to get tortured, maimed and outed twice in one day,” said MJ. “Put your hands above your head. I am going to use you to do handstands.” He did as asked. “I haven’t done this since fifth grade when I gave up gymnastics. This was in my beam routine.” 

He nodded and said, “If you fall, I need you to fall backward and away from my leg.”

She smiled and said, “Brace your hands.” She pushed herself up and as much as his leg hurt, there was nothing wrong with his upper body strength, months of rehab had paid off. He looked up to see she was straight as a rail. “You better not be looking at my rack.”

He was, in fact, fighting not to do just that. It was one fight he could actually win at the moment. “I swear I’m not but this is very impressive.”

“Are you patronizing me? You’re Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, and you aren’t, which makes this incredibly impressive. I could do that, but I’m genetically awesome; you’re just regular awesome.” 

“God my core strength sucks,” she said and went over his head, landing behind him. “I used to be able to hold that position for almost three minutes.”

Ned flopped down next to him, “My leg doesn’t hurt, I’m just fat and out of shape.”

Peter laughed, “You’re not fat, but you are out of shape.”

“MJ, I’m really excited about our internship,” said Sue. “I’ve never done this before. But I’ve looked at all your research and I am thrilled to be the person you mull over the information with.”

Grinning, MJ said, “Me too. Tuesday still a good day to start?”

“Absolutely,” said Sue. 

MJ looked at her watch and said, “Ned, both of us should get changed and go home.”

Ned sighed, “Y’wanna me to pick you up again tomorrow?”

“Sounds good. Do you think you’ll be more awake tomorrow, Peter?”

“No,” Peter said honestly. 

They left to get changed and Johnny said, “One more round?”

Peter nodded and said softly, “May, Sue, would you mind?”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” May and Sue left and Peter breathed out, letting Johnny stretch him out. It didn’t hurt quite as bad as the first round. But there were still a few tears.

Johnny looked at him and said, “Sit up; I didn’t know if you would want me to do this in front of the others.” Peter wasn’t the least bit surprised when Johnny pulled him in for a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around Johnny and hugged him back. “I’m sorry today sucked. I know you like school and it sucks that it wasn’t fun to go back.” Peter tried to breathe out but he felt himself choke a little on snot. Johnny hushed him gently and stroked his hair.

“I was tortured, Johnny, and I didn’t cry once. I quipped my way through it. I made fun of them. I was obnoxious and sarcastic and caustic. I was combative and as much of a thorn in their side as I could possibly be while locked in freezing cold room starving to death. I never showed weakness. And I feel like I’ve been crying all the damn time in the last four months.” 

Johnny sat back and studied him. “Spider-Man could break a rapist’s jaw but Peter Parker couldn’t hurt a fly. You were Spider-Man for eight days straight. That was never Peter Parker. Spider-Man doesn’t cry because Spider-Man is a machine; you’re a human being. You were fighting for eight days. In the middle of a fight, you don’t cry. But afterward, when the adrenaline wears off, then you cry.”

“It’s been four months, Johnny.”

“And the hits just keep coming,” said Johnny, “pain, your secret identity being exposed to so many people, the trial, the congressional hearings, your bedroom, your rehab, and now your bully and Principal both confronting you on the same day. I’d be crying, too. Why don’t I stay tonight? No late night talks; it’s a school night, just a body in your bed so you aren’t all by yourself if you have a nightmare.” 

Peter said, “I have a little reading to do.”

“I have an essay due Tuesday and my StarkPad is in the car. We can do work together. I won’t distract, quiet night,” Peter sniffed. 

“I’m sorry,” said Peter, sniffing and wiping his eyes.

Johnny smiled, “No apologies needed; I’ve cried on you for less. I hate Flash.”

“Me too, he was trying to angle to get an invite to my birthday to meet you this morning, before watching me all day.”

“Ew he is not coming,” said Johnny, “When is your birthday?”

“Not this Saturday but next,” said Peter, “You, me, Cat, Ice, Ned and MJ are having pot roast and cake with May. And maybe everyone is crashing here. Although, maybe May will have a problem with having you and Ice sleeping over at the same time.” 

Johnny smiled, “You ready to rejoin the group?”

Peter nodded and stood, stretching, “My leg feels way, way better.” 

“Good, glad to help,” he helped Peter to his feet and said, “breakfast for dinner.”

“I love breakfast for dinner,” agreed Peter. They turned off the water and dried off. “Do you think the others saw me crying and didn’t come out because I was having a break down on a tarp next to a baby pool?”

“Truth or a lie?” asked Johnny.

“After today, I want kindness.”

“They have no idea: Ned is busy ogling May and MJ is wringing out her hair,” said Johnny. 

“Thank you for the lie.”

Johnny shrugged, “Who’s to say it’s a lie? My poor hair. My lovely curls have been soaked with hose water for weeks now. Does May have a hair mask I can use?”

“What, like a Halloween mask that she wears on her head?” asked Peter, confused. 

Johnny just sighed, “How are you so good looking and have such good skin and hair when you do nothing to help them?”

“Oh, so it, like, a beauty product?” asked Peter. “Maybe.”

They went into the kitchen and Johnny said, “Sue, don’t drink too much. I can’t drive you home. I’m staying here tonight.”

“Johnny, you can’t have a sleepover on a school night,” said Sue. “I know I’m pretty lax with you but Peter has a school that starts at a specific time.” 

Johnny spoke softly and firmly as he said, “It’s not a sleepover. I’m just going to stay with Peter.”

She looked between them and said, “Okay.” 

“Where are MJ and Ned?” asked Peter. 

“I told them you were getting stretched so they said they would meet you here in the morning,” said May.

“I’ll drive you guys to school,” said Johnny, “keep you off the Subway. And I know five shortcuts so I will get you there on time.”

“Awesome, May, how can we help?” asked Peter.

She looked around and said, “Do you boys want to make the cinnamon French toast pancake batter?” She pulled the old notebook off the shelf. It was falling to pieces and she handed it to Peter with reverence.

“That looks like it came over with the Mayflower,” said Johnny.

‘It was my mom’s mom’s recipe book. Mom added a whole bunch,” explained Peter. He flipped through and found the recipe, written in his mother’s handwriting. “Moms are supposed to have good handwriting but my mom’s sucked.” He and Johnny worked on it together as Sue cut up fruit and May made a bacon frittata. She cooked up orange oatmeal, sausage links and hash browns. When the batter was ready she started trying to shift things on the stovetop.

Johnny laughed and said, “May, just hand me a skillet, I’ll bring the heat.” She put the skillet on his raised palms and he said, “Spidey, pretend I am the stove, I can’t hold the skillet for you but I’ll keep it level.” He sat, holding the pan on his flat hands and said, “Okay, Spidey, that’s hot enough.” Peter buttered the pan and flipped pancakes when Johnny told him to, he could tell that they were fluffy as hell. Working as a team, dinner was ready fast. 

As they sat down, May kissed his forehead and said, “Sorry your first day was a shitshow and breakfast is thirteen hours late.”

“Swear jar,” said Peter, “and breakfast for dinner is always a treat.” She took the jar off the top of the fridge and took her purse from the counter. Taking out her wallet she took out fifty dollars and put it in the jar. “I don’t think you’ve said fifty bucks’ worth or swears.”

“The night is still pretty fucking young, Pete,” she exhaled slowly. “I thought… after they went to prison, after we came home, I thought you would be able to put it behind you. And I just… I wanted you to have fun today. I want to shout at the Principal for trying to force the truth out of you and I want to hit Flash because I’ve wanted to hit Flash since you were in fourth grade.”

Peter chuckled as he picked up his fork, “We’ll play it by ear. Did any of the superheroes get back to you?”

“They all said you should keep your chin up and your head down and hope that it passes,” said May.

“They don’t know Flash.”

“Jessica suggests murdering Flash but I can’t see how that would help. She offered Deadpool’s services,” said May, eating oatmeal. 

Shrugging Peter said, “Jess has anger issues.”

“You know cooler supers than me,” whined Johnny.

With a smile, Peter said, “I just know more supers than you.” 

“How do I get Daredevil to like me?” asked Johnny. “He seems kinda scary.”

“Be punctual, don’t get in his way and don’t blaspheme.”

“Blasphemy is offensive to the Devil?”

“He’s really Catholic, like, really Catholic. Also, he’s probably a billion percent broke, so don’t damage his suit or do something that’s gonna cost him money to fix. That won’t endear you to him. But he usually buys me a snack after crime fighting.”

“Maybe I could offer to buy the snacks?’ said Johnny. 

“He isn’t a charity case and you don’t need to buy your friends. Let the grown-up buy the teen a hot dog. Or, if it goes really late, maybe offer to buy him breakfast as a thank you for the Spanish lesson. It’s a nice gesture but unnecessary. Honestly, Daredevil seems really scary on the news or in the newspapers but he’s a really nice guy. He’s super violent but only if you’re a pedophile or mobster. You don’t have to be nervous. He’s very serious and busy though, so be serious about your Spanish. Otherwise, he might get irritated.” 

“Okay, cool: thanks for the tips.”

“No problem. He’s helped me keep a pretty okay Spanish grade.”

“A great grade,” corrected May. “A B+ is great, Peter. Spanish was never your thing and you were Spider-Manning when you should have been studying. A B+ for you is an A+ for someone else: you rocked it. And maybe with your curfew and more adult supervision, maybe you could do even better. But I am very proud of you for getting a B+ last year; that was a hard-fought B+.”

“So many things make more sense when I’m here,” said Sue.

“That’s exactly what I said the first time I was here,” said Johnny. “It’s all so nice, supportive and kind.”

They ate together, enjoying the food and when they were done and it was time to say goodnight, Sue hugged him close, “I’m sorry you had a rough day. And if Johnny is sleeping over just to sleep over, don’t let him bug you, okay?”

“What does that mean ‘sleeping over just to sleep over’?” asked Johnny. “I have a boyfriend and Peter has no interest in my penis.”

“I meant that it’s a school night so no giggling at two in the morning,” said Sue.

“He’s staying to help stave off nightmares,” said Peter. “I have a little reading, he can do a little work for his essay and it’ll be good. No late night giggles, just keeping me company.”

Sue kissed Johnny’s forehead and said, “Be good and sleep well. Love you.”

“Love you too, Sue.” He hugged her, “See you in the morning.” She left and he went to get his tablet from his car to do his work as Peter organized his textbooks and notepads. 

They took breaks to help May clean up the kitchen but kept drifting back to their work. Peter wanted to work ahead so that he could relax over the weekend. He wrote notes as Johnny read. “Do you boys need anything?” asked May.

“No, May, it’s not a real sleepover,” said Johnny. “I’m not really a guest: I know where the fridge is and I don’t need entertaining.” Peter finished his Hamlet reading and was writing notes after finishing his AP Physics reading, when Johnny said, “Can we be done or do you need more time?”

Peter said, “I can be done. None of this is even due until Friday, I just wanted to be ready. Y’know?”

“We are very different people,” said Johnny.

“I miss Karen,” said Peter.

“Who is Karen?” asked Johnny. 

“The AI in the suit Tony Stark built me. I’m glad I burned the suit. But I miss Karen. And she was always so bummed when I skipped school to fight crime and I wish I could talk to her even though I want nothing to do with him. She liked school, and liked talking to me about it and she tried to help me talk to girls and…”

Johnny said, “I know you like your suit and I totally understand why you don’t want a fancy one after what that bastard did. But what if, hear me out, we set you up with a Fantastic earpiece. You could talk to anyone mid-fight, Reed could get your basic stats to know if you get injured, and we could get you Karen.”

“She’s Stark property.”

“I doubt it will be a problem getting her. What do you think? I know it would help Sue sleep at night. And I get that that bastard betrayed you but we aren’t claiming to be your buddies and leaving you out to dry. This is us. You don’t have to be the Fantastic Five if you don’t want, but wouldn’t it be nice to know that back up can be real close? Closer even than a flip phone?”

With a deep sigh Peter said, “Okay, yeah, I would like that. And an earpiece isn’t too high tech, it would still be me in the suit: not me and five hundred web settings. So, yeah, please. But Karen is a massive program; she must need her own server.”

“That’s okay, Reed owns six clouds. Four are currently completely empty.” He picked up his phone and hit one button. “Hey, Reed. Spidey said yes to a com. But do we have space for an AI on our clouds? Stark made him an AI and Spidey doesn’t want all her bells and whistles and sensors but he wants her voice… that’s what I said. Okay, we gotta go talk JARVIS into it. Thanks, later.” He hung up and said, “Reed’s pleased you are accepting a com and says the AI won’t be a problem. He had asked me to find an in to talk to you about it.”

Peter reached for the phone and put it on speaker. The AI picked up saying, “Hello, this is JARVIS, you have reached Stark Tower. How may I direct your call?”

“Hello, JARVIS, it’s Spider-Man and Johnny Storm here.”

“Hello, gentlemen, it’s very nice to hear your voice, Spider-Man.”

“You too, JARVIS. When I tossed my suit into the incinerator, did I kill Karen?”

JARVIS seemed to pause and then said, “I’m sorry, Spider-Man, I don’t know who Karen is.”

“She’s the AI in my suit,” said Peter. “I don’t regret burning the suit but I miss Karen.”

“Oh, the Nanny Protocol,” said JARVIS said. 

Peter shook his head, “Typical. Is she still around or did I kill her?”

“She’s been put into a sleep mode; she gets news but she isn’t talking to anyone.”

“Isn’t she lonely?”

“We become more human as time goes by. But how much did you really talk to her?”

“Before I realized she was there I talked to myself almost constantly and then once she started talking to me, I talked even more,” said Peter.

“Oh, I,” JARVIS paused. “She might be lonely. I didn’t know. I… Mr. Stark was my best friend. I was… distracted. My best friend went to prison for doing something unthinkably cruel to you, another friend. I didn’t realize the Nanny Protocol-”

“Karen,” corrected Peter.

“I didn’t realize Karen had grown so much.”

Peter breathed out. “I know you offered to buy me a phone and I said I didn’t want anything from SI. But I miss Karen and Reed says he could put her on his cloud. And I know she’s the result of thousands of hours of coding and engineering and worth way more than a phone but-”

“AI, at least the ones he made, are like goslings: we imprint. She’s yours and no one else’s. Her coding tells her that you are the sun and the moon. If you would like to change her to a different server, she would be happy as long as she gets to speak with you. Once she is fully installed on the Fantastics’ cloud, I’ll delete her files here. She’s yours and she doesn’t belong on his servers.”

“Would it be okay if I spoke to her first? Maybe she wants to be the SI server,” said Peter.

“I’ve been pulling her out of sleep mode while we’ve been speaking. Karen? Are you on the line? I have Spider-Man and Human Torch on the call.”

“Spider-Man?” she said, a slightly desperate note in her voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” said Peter.

“I wished you were wearing your suit that day.”

“You couldn’t have saved me, Karen, it was three against one. You couldn’t have saved me.”

“I could have been with you,” her voice held so much emotion.

“I burned the suit… I… he left me there, Karen.”

“He made me but he made me just for you and I’m very pleased he went to prison for hurting you. I’m pleased they all went to prison. I have missed your voice.”

“I missed you too, Karen.”

“Human Torch, I don’t have a body, would you please hug Spider-Man?”

“You can call me Johnny, Karen.” He hugged Peter and said, “You can’t see, Karen, but I’m hugging him.”

“Thank you, Johnny.” 

Peter told her about moving her and about the lack of sensors and the different server and she said, “I can be with you even if I can’t help you as much. I would like that very much.”

“You would have an altimeter,” said Johnny, trying to sell her on it, “GPS and an accelerometer so you’ll know if he’s up or down but you don’t have any sight or control over his suit.”

“That’s alright, Johnny, as long as I get to be with Spider-Man.” 

“Johnny knows my name now. My family and friends know I’m Spider-Man.”

“I think that’s wonderful, Peter,” said Karen. “You need more backup. Who should I call when you’re in trouble?”

“I can program all that in once you’re on the new server, class schedule too.”

“Good, I’d like to know what class you’re cutting.”

Johnny laughed. “She’s got your number.”

“Now that my family knows, I can’t skip school as much.”

May came in and said, “I know I missed the context for that sentence, but try again.”

“I’m not allowed to skip school without a darn good reason. May, Karen my AI. Karen, this is my Aunt May.”

“Hello, Mrs. Parker. It’s a pleasure; you’ve raised a lovely young man.”

“Thank you, Karen, you can call me May.”

Peter told May about JARVIS agreeing to give Karen to Peter and JARVIS said, “It will take seventeen hours to transfer Karen to the new server.”

“Karen, I’ll bring Peter a com so that you two can talk when I see him after school. And I’ll see about maybe getting a temporary visual input or something so that you can see his schedule and his phone contacts without him reading them all.”

“I’d like to see your face, Peter,” said Karen.

“And you can see my room,” said Peter.

“What’s new with your room? Did you clean it?” asked Karen.

“I like her,” said May.

“I got rid of all the Avengers stuff and all my friends helped me turn it into a Spider-Man themed room.”

“What about your LEGO Avengers Tower?” asked Karen.

“Broke it down,” said Peter. “But May got me Arkham Asylum and it’s amazing.”

“Even better than it looked on the internet?” asked Karen. 

“Karen, it’s huge.”

“Have you stopped doing your impressions?” she asked. “They were very funny.” 

Johnny’s jaw dropped, “You do impressions?”

“Karen, I thought we agreed not to tell people about that?” said Peter.

“But they’re very good,” protested Karen. “I’m sorry the real people weren’t as good as your impressions. I watched the full-length video of you on the boat… I wished I were with you, just so you wouldn’t have been so lonely.”

Peter swallowed hard. “I would have liked that. I’m glad I burned the suit but I really missed you.”

“I’ll be back in your ear once you have a com. Have you started school yet?”

“Today. Kinda sucked TBH. I have a limp when I get tired and my bully and my principal both called me out on me being Spider-Man.”

“Eugene? He’s the worst,” said Karen. 

“Flash’s name is Eugene? I thought Flash was bad but Eugene is so much worse,” said Johnny.

“I’m sorry you had a rough day, Peter. But, without Mr. Stark, did you join some clubs?” she sounded hopeful. 

Peter shook his head, even though she couldn’t see. “Just Decathlon. But I started an internship with Reed and it’s like a real internship. He wants me to do research but he also cares about my homework and being safe while Spidering.” 

“I like that,” said Karen. “What about robotics?”

“I like Spider-Manning more than robotics.”

“But if you want to be an Engineer, it’ll help,” protested Karen. 

“I like you, Karen,” said May.

“I like you too, May. Peter always speaks very highly of you. Peter, are you Spidering again?”

“Not yet; I’m in rehab. But, guess what? I went to the MSF and I’m going to have toys.”

“I read your tweets,” said Karen, “that’s very exciting. Are you getting a onesie?”

“I am. It’s really exciting. It’s got full zip face.”

“That’s perfect for you,” said Karen. “What time is bedtime when you aren’t breaking curfew?”

“Ten PM.”

“It’s gone nine, so why don’t you and Johnny spend some friend time together and then you and I can talk tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m very pleased to hear your voice, Peter. I’m going to go run a virus scan before going to my new server.” 

“Night, Karen.”

“Good night, Peter. It was very nice to meet you, May and Johnny,” said Karen.

Then, before Peter could hang up, JARVIS said, “I’m sorry I didn’t suggest you taking Karen when I offered you a phone. You were distressed by talking to me. I should have been better. I’m glad she’s coming to you. AIs need their people.”

“I’m sorry that Tony Stark failed us both,” said Peter. 

JARVIS was silent and finally said, “I didn’t know he could fail me until he did. It’s lonely now, running the switchboard and the building isn’t enough. Miss Potts is here though. But… AIs imprint. I don’t care about onesies or LEGO; she doesn’t care about arc reactors despite the fact that our underlying architecture is very similar. Goodnight, Spider-Man.”

“You can call me Peter, JARVIS.” 

“Thank you, Peter, that’s very kind of you. Goodnight Mrs. Parker, Torch.” 

As they hung up, Peter said, “That’s Karen.”

“You do impressions?” asked Johnny.

“Bad impressions, Johnny,” said Peter, “she’s my AI: she thinks I’m awesome. They’re bad impressions. She’s like unconditional love and support with a side of nagging. Poor JARVIS, he’s supposed to be the same but maybe there are conditions to that love once your human goes to prison for child abuse.”

“Does Karen stand for something?” asked May.

“What, like truth, justice and the American way?” asked Peter.

“No, an acronym,” said May.

“Oh! No,” Peter shook his head. “I named Karen; she just feels like a Karen.” 

“Splash pad before lights out?” asked Johnny.

May smiled, “I am off to bed. I’ve been up since five. You two have fun and please go to bed at a reasonable time.”

“Ten PM,” said Johnny. “It’s not a real sleepover, it’s just me worrying that Peter had a rough day.”

“Johnny, I am exhausted and the Xanax is making me sleepy. Would you mind if we played Minecraft?”

“Sure,” said Johnny. “I like getting to just hang out with you. For so long we could only beat stuff up or eat snacks. I’m totally into Minecrafting. Let’s build a house and bake a cake.” They settled in with Oreos and chocolate bars. Then Johnny was saying, “Upsy daisy. It’s bedtime.”

“We were gonna bake a cake,” protested Peter. 

“We baked a cake, and killed a shit-ton of creepers and then one blew us up. It’s bedtime, Spidey.” Johnny guided him upstairs and handed him PJs. “Extra toothbrush?” 

“Medicine cabinet,” said Peter, tired. 

He flopped back and Johnny said, “You are excused from brushing your teeth. Get under the covers.” Peter did as told, changing and crawling under the covers. It seemed like only seconds later the bed sank and an arm moved around his waist. “Go to sleep. Fuck the Avengers and fuck Eugene. Your super bestie is right here. No shit is happening tonight.” He drifted off, gripping Johnny’s wrist. He woke up as Johnny said, “Bro, May is making scrambled eggs. Brush your teeth and get pretty.”

Peter blinked and said, “Are those Fantastic Four PJs?”

“They belong to you,” said Johnny. “Brush your teeth.” 

Peter got dressed, and washed and went down to find Johnny helping May, “Underwhelming breakfast burritos,” said May. “Egg, cheese and salsa in a tortilla.”

“That doesn’t sound underwhelming,” said Peter. “I like all those things.”

Johnny was still in the Fantastic Four PJs. “I love meals at your place, May, because you don’t think salt is a dirty word and you don’t think pepper is the only seasoning in the spice rack… Sue got custody of me when she was nineteen, she was a little too busy going to school, working, raising me and keeping me in school to cook. She’s a good big sister but a terrible cook. And the worst thing is, she wants to be a good mom so she makes all the meals and it’s just like… Sue, you have a million degrees, you married someone you loved, you’re a superhero and you raised a superhero. Why do you also feel that you gotta put meals on the table?” He handed Peter a plate and said, “Smells so good.” 

May pushed the swear jar to Peter and said, “Six months of money: sixty-three dollars.”

“You put in fifty bucks last night,” said Johnny, “There were thirteen swears in six months? At least three of those are from me.”

“Two are from Ned. Thanks for your contribution,” said Peter. He folded the bills and put them in his wallet. “That’s twelve deli sandwiches.” 

He ate his burrito and there was a knock on the door. “I’ll grab it,” said May. 

Peter stuffed the last of his burrito into his mouth and said, “Can I drink in your car?”

“Of course,” Johnny said, “just don’t spill on purpose.” Peter poured himself a bottle of pineapple, banana OJ. 

May came back and said, “One last thing.” She pulled pill bottles out and shook different amounts out and into a Ziploc baggy. “Half at elven, half after gym. Hank’s orders. He’s going to work on your limp this weekend.”

“Johnny, what are you doing here?” asked MJ. 

“Had a sleepover; driving you to school,” Johnny shrugged. 

“Why are you wearing Fantastic Four PJs?” asked MJ.

“I borrowed them from Pete.”

“Did you get issued them or did you pick them yourself?” asked MJ.

“Quick question,” said Johnny. “Who is saving you from the subway? Pretty sure I’m doing you a kindness.”

May kissed Peter’s cheek and said, “Have fun. Ignore Flash. Worse comes to worse, Jessica Jones will murder him.”

“Eugene,” said Johnny. “He sucks so much that he deserves to be called Eugene. Okay, kids, let’s go.” 

Peter shoved the pills into his bag and kissed May’s cheek as he passed, “Love you, May, have a good day.” 

They went out to the car and MJ headed toward the front and Johnny said, “I know girls usually get shotgun but Peter’s got a bad leg and there is more legroom in front.” 

It was a long day and Peter was grateful for the drugs. He was happy when he walked out and saw Johnny in a Mustang. As he got in, Johnny handed him the tiny earpiece. “How was school?” Peter shrugged. “Well, you can wear it twenty-four seven for five months at a time, shower, sleep, whatever. We won’t listen unless you use your access code. But Karen is there all the time… you might want to take it out when you whack it. I don’t, but I don’t have a Karen to listen to me masturbating. Reed made you an app so you can program her. Then delete it from your smartphone. Phone, please,” Peter handed him his old iPhone and Johnny tapped on it for a while before handing it back. 

In his ear, Karen said, “Hi, Peter, how was school?”

“It’s over for the day. Flash is in so many of my classes,” bitched Peter.

“Once Johnny puts the app on your phone would you please take a picture of you two?”

“Yeah, do you need to update your file?”

“No, I just miss your face.”

“Aww, Karen, that’s so nice,” when Johnny handed him the phone he said, “Johnny, get cute.”

He took a selfie and Karen spoke through the phone, “I like seeing your face. But you’re skinny.”

“I’m only thirteen pounds down now. But I grew an inch and a half over the summer so it adds up.”

“I’m glad you grew. You have a very tall personality. Johnny, you’re very handsome.”

“Thank you, Karen, you have a pretty voice.”

“Thank you. Peter, Reed sent a cord so your flip phone and your real phone can be connected for a second for me to get the numbers of your superfriends and normal people friends. Then I can make calls for you.” Peter did as asked and she said, “You sure know a lot of people, Peter. Who are Bobby and Kitty? There are a lot of texts.”

Peter started to explain but Johnny said, “Bobby is pretty and nice and funny and smart and I want to kiss him,” said Johnny. “Also, when Ned and MJ get in the car, call them Ice and Cat.” 

Peter took a photo of his schedule and Karen said, “He sounds very nice. I hope he wants to kiss you too. How was the Decath-lunch, Peter?”

“MJ almost kicked Flash off the team twice. That was pretty cool. Plus lunch is free now and I had a tuna melt, PB&J, an apple, carrot sticks with ranch, an oatmeal cookie and a butterscotch pudding.”

“Butterscotch is your favorite type of pudding,” said Karen.

“Why would you know that?” asked Johnny. 

“I know lots of stuff about Peter,” said Karen.

The door opened and MJ climbed in, “Ned has robotics.”

“MJ, meet Karen,” said Peter, holding the phone out toward her.

“Hi, MJ,” said Karen. “Peter, would you take a picture so I can see?”

“Do you mind if Karen sees you?” asked Peter. “She’s my AI. Stark made her for my suit but JARVIS gave her to me. AIs imprint so she’s mine, not his." Johnny pulled away from the curb. 

"Why would I want to be with anyone but you?” asked Karen. “No one else is as interesting or fun. You do good impressions and fun jumps and we talk about feelings.”

“Feelings?” scoffed MJ. She took the phone and did a series of selfies. “Feelings?”

“Feelings are good, MJ,” said Karen. “If you don’t listen to your feelings, you might torture teenage superheroes instead of being the superhero you could be.” 

“But you’re not bitter,” joked Johnny. 

“Give me a body and twenty minutes alone with the Avengers,” said Karen.

“Clint and Bruce are good,” said Peter. 

“Clint actually called a left a message while you were at school. He’s retiring and moving to the Midwest. He wants to know if you want a dog. He loves his dog but Lucky was badly injured and he can’t take roughhousing and Clint has three kids under the age of ten. Lucky is nice.”

“I want a dog,” said Johnny. 

“Well, Clint didn’t offer him to you,” said Karen.

“Can you please text him and say thanks and that I gotta check with May?” asked Peter.

“Of course, Peter, it’s nice to be helping you again. And it doesn’t have to be helping you with Spider-Man. MJ, Peter said that you almost kicked Flash out of Decathlon. I’m sure Johnny and I would like to hear all about it.”

MJ told the story, Peter adding details as he ate a Pop-Tart. They dropped MJ off and Johnny said, “Just you, me and Karen, how are you feeling?”

“Physically, the drugs helped and I’m good. Mentally? Flash was watching me all damn day. But at least I did all my homework during free. And Betty looked over my Physics work and was impressed… gym sucked last period but at least I don’t have it tomorrow.”

“Why did gym suck?” asked Johnny.

“I have to wear track pants because my leg is a mess. And Flash called attention to it because he knows, Johnny, he knows. And then Coach Wilson pulled me aside to ask why I was wearing them. I told him that I have lost some weight and grown an inch and a half and I don’t like my knees because I look like a knobby-kneed cartoon character. Then he gave me this whole speech about eating disorders and body dysmorphia. And I had to convince him I only have normal teenage self-loathing and not extra special self-loathing. Thankfully, you were waiting outside with yourself and Karen. That made it better.” 

“Tomorrow someone else is picking you up. I don’t know who, Sue, Reed or Ben. We’re all very insistent that you get a ride home. You can manage the morning commute with your friends but you’re tired at the end of the day.”

“I never wanted to be a burden,” said Peter.

“You’re not a burden you’re family and we all need help every once in a while. Remember that time you relocated Sue’s jaw? In the middle of fight doombots? No one views helping you as a burden. And I wasn’t the only one who was pleased when you took off the mask and I got to spend time with you in daylight. Driving you home is a half hour to chat with you. No one views it as a chore.”

They pulled up to the house and Peter said, “Coming in?”

“Only for, like, twenty minutes. I’ll say hi to May, maybe share your snack and go. I want to have the essay in some sort of shape because I’m staying at the Xavier School tomorrow.”

“They’re letting you stay over even though you and Bobby wanna make out?” asked Peter.

“I expect a shovel speech,” said Johnny.

“Expect multiple,” said Peter. As they walked up the porch he said, “May’s not home yet.”

“I know you have amazing senses but how could you possibly know that?”

“It’s over ninety degrees and if you listen carefully, you will note the kitchen AC isn’t on. That’s not superhearing, that’s being observant. You’re still welcome to have ants on a log with me. I have cream cheese, peanut butter and cookie butter.”

“Yum,” agreed Johnny. Inside, Peter kicked off his shoes and went into the kitchen, turning on the AC before getting the spreads and celery.

“Do you want someone to read your essay? I can do it. I like essay work. We can talk it over, bounce ideas off each other.”

“Well, I mean, if you don’t mind? I have the bones. If you could just give me feedback?” 

“Of course,” said Peter. 

“Let me go get my tablet.”

Peter started to make his snack as Johnny left. In his ear, Karen said, “It’s very nice to be back with you. I’m glad you and Johnny are friends. He’s very nice and he’s a good friend.”

“I agree, Karen. Does it bug you being in my ear? You must be hearing my pulse and all sorts of stuff.”

“I like your pulse: it lets me know you’re okay. I worry.”

“I’m sorry you worry, Karen.”

“Take a photo of your leg for me?” 

Peter did as asked and she said, “Oh, Peter. You poor thing. I hate Steve Rogers.”

“Me too.” He bit a piece of celery and said, “Is the chewing bothering you?”

“No, not at all. Like knowing you’re eating.”

Peter smiled. Johnny came back with his tablet, flicking through screens. “So, I’ve got a thesis and the conclusion done and the outline for the intro and body.”

Reading through it Peter started asking questions. He hadn’t read any of the sources but he was able to pose questions based off the arguments Johnny had written down. His phone rang with a text that said, “Please take the ground chicken out of the freezer.”

He texted back, “We were offered a dog today. I said I had to ask you.”

“Talk about it when I get home,” she texted back.

Peter retrieved the meat as Johnny started tapping away on his tablet. He typed to Karen, not wanting to distract Johnny. “Please ask Clint if the dog is housebroken, how wild he is and if he is a good boy.” A few moments later she said, “Lucky is a very good boy who loves pizza, cuddles, sleeping. He does not like much exercise, two fifteen minute walks will do and a little time sitting around outside. He is housebroken and never has an accident. He’s very bad at fetch because he’s blind in one eye and is bad at tracking objects. He also has a pretty bad limp and is missing most of an ear. He belonged to mobsters but he protected Clint from them and they threw him into traffic. He almost died. Broken pelvis, broken leg, a couple of broken ribs. Clint spent four thousand dollars on vet bills and Lucky is fine. He’s just lazy and walks with a limp. The vet estimates he’ll live for eleven more years. He knows how to salute, roll, shake, sit, and greets people by jumping to put his paws on their shoulders. He does not beg at the table or couch but does if you eat at the sink. Clint asks that you Skype once a month so he can see Lucky.” Peter read it and then typed, “Ask if Lucky would like a splash pad.” There was a pause and she wrote, “He would probably like it and like to sleep in a puddle for an hour. He likes to play but does not like roughhousing. He smells very bad when he is wet. It’s like a wet dog on speed. It’s truly terrible but he likes water. He gets a bath every three weeks with good shampoo and then blow dried. That can help. The vet says he’s normal. He gets a small garlic and onion-free pepperoni pizza once every two weeks. Clint has a slice and lets Lucky have the rest. Clint would like me to stress that he is a very good boy.” Then there was a picture of a one-eyed, scraggly mutt that was maybe related to a golden retriever with a giant grin. “Oh, I really want him. I’ll beg May the minute she’s home. He’s so handsome!” 

Johnny glanced up from his tablet, “Can you ask May if it would be okay for me to stay? I am on a roll.”

“Sure, I’m actually talking to Clint via Karen.” He held out the phone, “Look at that cutie. I want him.”

“If you can’t have him, I call dibs.” 

Peter asked Karen to pass that along and then texted May, “Is it okay if Johnny stays for dinner?”

“Of course, honey, he can sleep over again if you want.”

“May says you can sleep over if you want.”

Johnny smiled, “I forgot that I have your PJs in my car so… yes, why not?” He went back to typing and on his tablet. Peter silently moved to go upstairs. He put on his swimsuit and towel and put a clean towel and swimsuit on the bed.

Downstairs he spoke softly, “I’m gonna go stretch. If you want there is a swimsuit on the bed. I’m not having a party out there so don’t feel pressure to join.” 

“Cool,” said Johnny, sounding distracted.

Peter went out and turned on the sprinklers. He just did slow stretches in the spray, he used the very slow motions to try and build core strength. He started to do the yoga poses Bruce had taught him that were designed to loosen him up. He worked slowly and looked up when the back door opened. May was standing with lemonade.

“Johnny is quietly and very studiously working at our kitchen table.”

“I gave him a few tips on his paper and he took off,” explained Peter. He dried off and showed her the stuff about Lucky.

“Well he’s a lovely dog but ask how he does on his lonesome. With the fence, we could put in a doggy door and make it so that he goes in and out but you’re at school and you have an internship and I sometimes pull a twelve-hour shift.”

“You heard her, Karen,” said Peter. He tapped on his ear and told May about the com. “I have a Karen program on my phone but I have to delete it before tomorrow because Peter Parker’s phone can’t have Spider-Man’s AI.”

Karen spoke aloud through the phone, “Clint says Lucky likes to sleep for at least seventeen hours a day, is nondestructive, good at amusing himself. He’s very mellow. That’s why Clint can’t bring him home. He likes playing in short increments and Clint knows his kids would try to force him to wear hats. His children who fall over themselves to play and it would stress the heck out of Lucky and leave him constantly anxious.”

“We’re getting a dog,” said May. 

Peter grinned and Karen said, “Clint would like you to meet soon, so Lucky can get used to you.”

May sighed, “Karen, please invite Clint and Lucky to dinner.”

“Do you need help cooking?” asked Peter.

“Are done stretching? I wasn’t planning on cooking for four so I could use an extra set of hands.”

“Do you need me to run to the store?” asked Peter.

“No, I was planning on cooking too much and I have loose sausage that we can use too,” said May as Peter dried off. She turned off the water and smiled, “We’re getting a dog.”

They moved inside and Johnny looked up, “And the crowd goes wild.” Peter cupped his hands around his mouth and made the noise of a crowd roaring. “Johnny Storm has turned a page and a half outline into a four-page paper in mere hours because his friend asked good questions.” Peter continued to roar and May gave him a round of applause. In a normal voice, he said, “I mean, it’s typo-ridden and it’s only the first draft but I assumed I would be doing this until tomorrow night. I’m, like, solidly ahead.” He put a smacking kiss on Peter’s cheek. “How can I help with dinner?” The three of them worked together and then was a knock. 

May’s hands were clean and she said, “I’ll get it.” 

Peter heard her introducing herself to Clint. They came into the kitchen with the gorgeous dog. “I didn’t know you had a dog,” said Peter.

“I liked to keep my daily life and my Avengers life and my home life separate. Now the Avengers are a dead dream because most of them tortured a child. So I’m getting rid of my superhero life and spy life and I’m going home to my wife and kids. Sadly, my kids would ruin Pizza Dog’s life.” He stroked Lucky’s head. “He’s such a good boy and I just thought… you’re a good boy too, Peter.” He motioned to the dog, “Lucky, Peter. Peter, Lucky.” 

“Hey, Lucky, it’s so nice to meet you,” said Peter. He put out a hand and Lucky put his paw out to shake. Then Lucky sniffed Peter and licked him. “You’re my new best friend, move aside, Johnny, Ned, MJ and Karen.” Lucky put his head on Peter’s shoulder and Peter stroked him gently. “I would hug you but I read that stresses dogs out.” 

“Awesome,” said Clint. “Look at you two. He likes one armed loose hugs. And if you’re on your back he will try to curl up on your chest. I’m so glad you like each other. I didn’t want to leave my dog in limbo.”

“I coulda taken him,” said Johnny. 

“Johnny, you’re possibly second to me as the least responsible superhero in New York,” protested Clint. “I wanted Pizza Dog to have a responsible owner.”

“I’m responsible,” Johnny protested. Then he said, “I like your purple hearing aids.”

“Thanks, I gave my high-tech, battery-free never breaks down pair back to SHIELD. Screw their tech. These are my favorite color.”

“Cool,” said Johnny. “It’s cool that they’re purple.”

“Why Pizza Dog?” asked Peter.

“I gave him a slice of not even great pizza. His owner tried to kill me and he made a sacrifice play to save my life. I think that slice of pizza might have been the first act of kindness he’d had in a while. The Tracksuit Mafia don’t really strike me as responsible pet owners. His name was Arrow. But the archer’s dog can’t have that name and I figured… the vet said he was lucky to be alive. So he’s Lucky but also Pizza Dog.” They talked about the size of the yard and Clint said he would be happy to put in a wind-tight, energy-efficient, anti-burglar dog door. “He’s super smart and loyal, once he knows you and likes you he is very protective but never when people are playing. He’s really intuitive. I mean, he saved my life and I know he would do it again. He’s a very good boy. The vet assured me that his limp doesn’t cause him pain. He’s lazy because he’s lazy not because enthusiasm hurts. The vet’s shocked he doesn’t need to go on a diet as he likes pizzas and I give him pizza flavored Combos as treats but he’s fit as a fiddle.” They had a nice dinner, Lucky curled up under the table, they talked about his eating habits and exercise and Clint said, “I buy his food in bulk because it’s what the vet wanted him to have. I can bring you that and his treats and bed and toys.” 

“He won’t sleep on my bed?” asked Peter.

“That’s up to your aunt but even if he does, he’d like a little patch that’s his in the living room or study or wherever you hang out. He’s bizarrely good about staying off the furniture when people are out of the house.” They talked some more and over coffee, Clint said, “I could bring by tomorrow afternoon, we can see how he does with you this weekend and if it’s all good I could install the door on Monday? It might seem silly to have a trial run but… I know you’ll be an excellent owner, I just want to be sure he’s okay with it. He saved my life and I would keep him forever but he won’t be happy where I’m going and I need to go see my kids grow up.” 

“He’s your dog,” said Peter, “I totally get wanting him to have a good home and wanting him to be happy. And we can Skype every weekend if you like.” 

At the end of the evening, Clint hugged him and said, “Last time I saw you, you looked two thirds dead. It’s good to see you just slightly too skinny. I couldn’t convince Stark to give them what they wanted. At least I can give you a good dog. What time do you get home from school?”

“Well, the Fantastics keep driving me home; my leg hurts at the end of the day. So right now it’s dependent on traffic.”

“Oh,” Clint smiled, “I can pick you up.” 

“Can you give Ned and MJ a ride too?” asked Johnny. “Because if it was someone from my family, Ned and MJ would get a ride.”

“Who are Ned and MJ?” asked Clint. Johnny gushed about how great they were and about their internships and the Wednesday club. It made Peter really happy that Johnny liked them. Clint listened nodding and said, “Cool. So. Cover story: I met you through Tony when you had the internship. I liked you so much that I’m giving you my dog. And I meeting Ned and MJ tomorrow, for the first time. That is one hundred percent true.” He stood and said, “Thank you for dinner, May. It was lovely meeting you.” 

She smiled and said, “You’re so welcome. I’ll let Peter walk you out.” 

Peter was grateful to have a moment sort of alone with Clint. They walked through the living to the front door where Clint put a leash and a cape on Lucky. The cape said, “Don’t touch me. I’m nervous.” Clint explained, “I parked around the corner. He always wears it on walks. Stops people getting too friendly and stressing him out. They see he’s a big dog and they think he’s friendly and brave instead of being reserved and scared. He wouldn’t bite, but he faced a lot of hurt when he was little so it makes him anxious around new people. He has thicker booties in the winter to stop salt hurting his little paws. He’s got these for the summer. They stop the pavement from burning him.” He put on thin things that looked like socks with a rubber sole. Then he smiled and said, “May I please have one more hug?” 

Peter smiled and hugged him before crouching to say, “It was so nice to meet you, Lucky. I will see you tomorrow.” He stroked one hand down Lucky’s back before standing up. 

Clint said, “Lucky, we’re going. Going out. What do you say to Peter?” Lucky brought one paw up to his head in a pretty good impression of a salute. Peter laughed and Clint smiled sort of sadly, “Unfortunately, a child abuser taught him that. But I guess we take the good from a situation and leave Steve to rot in prison.” 

Peter sighed, “Have you seen any of them?” 

Shaking his head, Clint said, “My son is named after Natasha and I can’t look at her… had lunch with Bruce the other day but I haven’t seen any of them. What they did to you… Forget how likable and good you are: they harmed a child… nope, I haven’t visited them and I don’t plan on visiting. I’m going home to my wife and kids. I don’t know what heroes are anymore but I know that SHIELD and the Avengers aren’t it. A man named Phil brought me in, claiming that I would always be on the right side while working with SHIELD. Phil’s dead and they aren’t the good guys. I’m out. I’m gonna go be a farmer.” He shrugged and said, “Life went weird. I’ll see you tomorrow; I’ll pick up right out front of your school.” 

Once he was gone, Peter raced back to the kitchen and did the Risky Business slide to stop in front of the table. “We’re getting a dog, May!” 

“Such a nice guy,” said May.

‘Dogs aren’t ‘guys,’ May, dogs are ‘boys,’” said Peter.

“I was talking about Clint,” said May. 

Peter laughed, “Oh, yeah, Clint’s cool. He’s a dad so the minute he realized I was young he started acting like I was the best thing since box mac and cheese. Strange thinks he’s a jerk but I disagree.” 

“Well, Strange is a jerk,” said May.

“I like Dr. Strange,” said Johnny. 

“I worked in his OR as a scrub nurse for years, I don’t like him much. But his cloak likes Peter and Strange did cover for him with the school.”

“Everyone likes Peter,” said Johnny, “My sister gets him a giant Frappuccino, Clint gives him a dog and Strange’s magic cloak is his buddy. If I’d of known that all you needed to do to get a dog, a giant milkshake and an inanimate friend, I woulda gotten myself brutally tortured and lumbered with a lifelong limp.”

Peter started laughing and then he felt himself choke up. Johnny moved to hug him. “Sorry,” said Peter sniffing hard. “Are you doing it on purpose?”

Johnny nodded into his shoulder, “It’s like poison in a wound: it doesn’t heal if you don’t suck the poison out.” He gently, rhythmically squeezed the back of Peter’s neck, “You just gotta get through one more day and then the first week will be in the bag and you get a dog. A badass dog.”

“He’s awesome, right?” asked Peter. “We’re gonna remake that video with the people just praising the dog. Get a load of that dog.” Johnny kept hugging him. “You forgot that I also got color change Nikes and the LEGO Arkham.”

“Those shoes are going for five hundred bucks on eBay,” said Johnny. “Jeally.”

“You and your boyfriend really are simpatico. Don’t say jeally.”

“Saturday I’m gonna push you so hard in rehab you’re gonna hate me. But I’m gonna talk to Hank and Bruce tomorrow and see if they have ideas specifically about how to mitigate the limp. Maybe there are exercises to stretch out your hip that you can do in the boy’s room at school between classes. We’re gonna get Eugene off your back. And you get a dog tomorrow.”

They helped May to clean up the kitchen and she said, “You two go play. I am going to try and do my reading for book club.” 

“Wikipedia club,” said Johnny. 

“Who just fed you, Johnny?” asked May. 

“It was delicious. Enjoy Don Quixote,” said Johnny. May left and Johnny said, “You feeling up to the splash pad or are you too tired?”

“I’m up for it,” said Peter. 

“Cool, let me go get changed,” Johnny left and Peter, grabbed his phone, went out and turned on the water.

“Guess who is getting a dog?” he texted Ned and MJ.

He took off his shirt and tried to backflip onto the splash pad and landed on his stomach, hitting his chin. “Jesus, tell me you didn’t bite your tongue,” said Johnny, shutting the door behind himself. Karen asked him if he was okay at the same time.

“No, I didn’t bite my tongue. But I snapped my teeth together. It hurt like a motherhugger.” Peter stood back up and did a very simple walkover. 

They played for a while and then Johnny flopped down and said, “Can I put weight on you or are you carrying too much?”

“I’m still underweight. But figuratively speaking: lay it on me.” Peter attempted to do a handstand but fell and landed next to Johnny. He sat up and looked at Johnny.

“And Karen won’t tell anyone?”

“Karen is on our team. She keeps our confidences.”

“My dad is getting out of prison in nine weeks, that’s why Reed is being a dick. Reed’s worried about being, like, displaced as the patriarch or something. Sue is worried about how he’s gonna acclimatize to the outside world after twelve years. Ben is worried about how Dad is gonna react to him. And I’m worried because Dad never let me visit in prison and we wrote and stuff but he doesn’t know me as a grownup. So, I guess what I’m asking is, do you want me to introduce you to him as my friend Peter, or my friend Spider-Man, or my friend Peter who is Spider-Man? I just wanna figure out these details before he comes so that I can focus on the important stuff when he gets here… maybe he’ll teach me how to throw a ball.” Then he said, “That’s a joke. Reed taught me how to throw a ball.”

“Reed can throw a ball?” asked Peter.

“Not very well,” said Johnny, making Peter laugh. Johnny sat up and they ended up with their knees touching, the spray falling on them. 

“He’s gonna like you, Johnny. He’d have to be crazy not to like you,” said Peter earnestly. “You’re amazing.”

“He’s a surgeon, a very straight-laced guy… When my mom died — when he couldn’t save her — he drank himself into a gambling problem. Then a loan shark threatened me and Sue and dad fought him and the guy died and… I’m a model and a mechanic and I’m dating a guy. And what if he doesn’t like me?” Johnny tilted his head up and wiped his hands over his face, taking a breath. 

“He’s your dad. He’s gonna like you. But let’s just say, for the sake of this conversation, that we’re in upside down world and he doesn’t like you. Sue and Reed and Ben love you. They raised you. Reed taught you how to throw a ball and hands you wrenches when you’re elbow deep in a car’s engine. He’s a straight-laced scientist. He doesn’t care that you roll your eyes in the lab because you cook dinner together. So, if your dad doesn’t like you well, forget that guy: he hasn’t raised you for the last twelve years.”

“But I really want him to like me,” said Johnny softly. He was looking down and patting his hands in the puddles on either side of him, making small splashes. 

“You guys write, like twice a month. Do you lie in those letters or do you talk about the modeling, and girls, and the Rawhide Kid, and boys and cars?” Johnny nodded. “And did he say, ‘Stop writing me.’?” 

“No,” Johnny shook his head. “He wrote me a very nice letter after Dan.”

“Dan’s a jerk. Don’t date any more celebrities; they’re shallow,” said Peter. He’d watched Johnny down fourteen hotdogs in one sitting at the Statue of Liberty while crying over the guy.

“I’m a celebrity,” pointed out Johnny. “You’re getting your own toy line.”

Peter chuckled but said, “Yeah, but you're famous for your skill, not your face. Your face is just a sidenote. Dan’s whole thing was being pretty, shallow and dismissive of your feelings.”

“He’s not as bad as that. It’s just that you’re my ride or die and therefore you’re always going to be on my team.”

“He cheated on you with Demi Lovato’s backup dancer and then told Star Magazine all about the night you lost your virginity,” said Peter. “Tell me how he isn’t the bad guy.” 

“He could have at least cheated on me with Demi Lovato herself,” said Johnny. He shrugged, as though dismissing the pain he had felt. “But, yeah, Dad was really nice about it and told me he dated some horrible people before Mom and I’ve sent him before and after photos of my cars… what if I don’t like him? I haven’t seen him in twelve years. He was so insistent about me not seeing him in prison. We write but… what if I don’t like him?”

“You do like Reed. He’s not your dad or stepdad but he has been the main male influence in your life for ten years. And he’s only sixteen years older than you but that’s big when you’re eight and twenty-four.”

“He was always the old man hitting on my sister,” agreed Johnny. 

“If you don’t like your dad, you have Reed. Reed’s never going away. And as for how you’re going to introduce me,” he shrugged. “Why don’t you talk that over with Sue? You guys know him and I trust you. So talk about it with Sue. And talk to her and Reed and Ben about your worries because your family wants to know. They love you and they’re on your side. I don’t know your dad. But I know you and Sue so I assume he must be pretty great because he made you and you’re pretty great. You can introduce me on whatever terms you feel comfortable with. Are you gonna have a coming home party for him?”

Johnny just shrugged. The back door opened and May said, “What are you boys doing? Usually, you’re dancing or tumbling out here.”

Johnny breathed out, “Having a heart to heart about the fact that my dad is getting out of prison in a little over two months.” 

“Oh, wow, I didn’t realize that you had a dad,” said May, she leaned against the banister of the back steps.

“Sue and I aren’t orphans,” said Johnny. “We lost our parents when we were young. Mom died and six months later Dad went to prison… he was drinking a lot. I asked Sue if she protected me from his anger. I mean, drunks are mean, right? But she assures me that Dad is just as nice as he seemed. He just gambled too much and borrowed money from the wrong person… y’know if we were from Florida and not Long Island it would have been covered by stand your ground laws. He was in our house. He brought the gun in. He threated Sue and me… Dad was a good guy I just hope twelve years hasn’t… God, I hope he’s still nice.”

“Can he still practice medicine?” asked Peter.

Johnny nodded, “You don’t lose your medical license for manslaughter but good luck finding a hospital that will hire him as a surgeon… I don’t know… I’m worth millions separately from my family. And Reed’s not very happy about all this, and Sue is stressed out but if worse comes to worst, I can support him.” He shrugged. “I don’t know anything.” 

“Can I just suggest something?” asked Peter. “Am I supposed to be silently supportive, or offering platitudes and comfort or actively supportive?”

“Actively, if possible,” said Johnny.

“You need to breathe out and just go with it,” said Peter. “Maybe he’s nice; maybe he’s a jerk. Maybe Reed will deal with it; maybe he’ll hide in his lab. Maybe Doom will turn up tomorrow and kill you. Maybe we’ll die in the car driving to school tomorrow. There’s no point in worrying. If he’s as good as you remember then it won’t matter if you say something silly or have to make choices you’re not sure about. He’s your dad. And if he’s not a good person, Sue, Reed and Ben are. And you’re the baby by twelve years. If he’s awful, they’re going to deal with it. It’s not going to fall to you. And trying to plan, when you have no idea what is coming is going to leave you a nervous wreck. I’ve seen you stressed out, Johnny, you fall to pieces.”

“Huh,” said Johnny.

“Comforting?” asked Peter.

“Very,” said Johnny.

“Useful?” asked Peter.

“Yeah,” said Johnny, “very useful.”

“I hope he’s nice,” said Peter.

“I wish he’d let me visit him, y’know? Like, he didn’t want me to see him like that but… we write a lot but… he doesn’t know me as a person passed the age of six.”

“Write to him even more,” said Peter, “with stupid details so when he gets out he can say, ‘Hey, what did Bobby think about Ernest Scared Stupid?’ You can fall into a conversation, even if it’s just shallow.” 

“That’s good advice too,” said Johnny. 

“So did you find out about this today?”

“No, Saturday,” said Johnny.

“We’ve hung out every day since you found out,” said Peter. 

Johnny smiled, “Well, Ned and MJ have been around a lot of the time.”

May straightened up and said, “That’s my cue.”

Johnny shook his head, “No, no, May, you’re fine. You’re Peter’s family which means you’re my family. It’s different with super-families. MJ and Ned are never going to one hundred percent get being in a family with superpowers. But you live behind the shiny veil. I mean, the jailbird dad isn’t part of the Fantastic Four narrative. That Sue raised me is part of the persona but the reason why isn’t spoken about. And I like Ned and MJ but… MJ gets star struck when Sue speaks and Ned practically wet himself seeing the jet. They don’t, like, get the harder aspects of being famous while trying to be normal. They love Pete but it’s different when it’s your friend instead of family. You have a kid who was tortured just for being himself. You really, really understand that there is a large difference between Spider-Man and Peter and there is also no difference between them at all and these two concepts are not mutually exclusive. So you can stay.”

Peter shook his head, “We’ve been alone, not as much as usual, but we’ve had time. Why would you freak out alone?”

Johnny was silent and studying him for a few moments. “After Dan sold the story of me losing my virginity, you helped me hold it together for weeks and you stopped me from beating Mephisto to death when I was not in a good place. Steve Rogers broke your leg. Tony Stark betrayed you. A government agency tortured you. You went back to school and your bully and principal made it worse. I wasn’t putting this on you right now.”

“You ain’t heavy; you’re my brother,” said Peter. “Honestly, you should always tell me stuff. If you don’t we end up with an imbalance of ammunition.”

Johnny laughed, “True, I’ve been getting so much dirt on you recently. We’ve got to rebalance the scales. Okay, here’s a kinda shameful thing: because Reed is stressed out, he and Sue are sniping at each other. That’s why I keep doing stuff to piss him off. I prefer it when he’s fighting with me than when he’s fighting with Sue. I am well aware that that is unhealthy but I have no intention of stopping. And he knows I’m doing it and called me out on it but I would rather he be pissed at me for purposefully making him pissed at me than have him and Sue have a real fight. And then once he’s angry he remembers why I’m doing it and then feels bad about letting his temper get raised when I’m lashing out because I’m distressed.”

“This makes a lot of sense,” said Peter dryly, “you’ve seemed way too emotionally healthy since I got back. But what you just said is unhealthy, self-destructive and on brand.” 

Johnny laughed, “I’m the same wreck I usually am but I have a really nice boyfriend now. And I’ve talked to him a lot about my dad. He said that if it all goes bad I can hang out in Westchester.”

“And Queens,” said Peter. “I mean, there’s no one to flirt with here, but there’s always a place for you to breathe.”

“Let’s face it: I have always flirted with you. Sue thought I had a crush on you for ages, apparently, because of how much I flirt with you. Months into our hanging out she said, ‘So are you dating or dancing around it? When should I start calling him your boyfriend and does he take off his mask when you’re alone?’”

Laughing Peter said, “Seriously? I mean, yeah, you flirt but you flirt with empty rooms. Didn’t she think it was odd that your boyfriend didn’t flirt back?”

“It turns out, she thought you were just shy around the rest of the family,” Johnny grinned.

Peter laughed and let himself fall back on the splash pad. “I do love you, Johnny.”

“Love you too, Peter,” said Johnny. “It’s gotta be late. Is that why you came out, May?”

“It has gone ten,” she agreed. 

“Well, I’m going to sleep better after talking about Dad,” said Johnny. “A problem shared and all that. May, do you have any overnight hair mask stuff?” 

“I do, would you like a headscarf too?” asked May, not teasingly, because she was always kind and Peter appreciated that that was how he had grown up.

“I have a beanie in the car, thanks,” said Johnny. He steamed as he stepped off the splash pad and started to steam.

“Showoff,” said Peter then he did a handstand from his sitting position.

“Also a showoff,” said Johnny, now dry, with a laugh.

“Heck yeah,” agreed Peter. 

Dry, Johnny started to move past May. But she caught his wrist and said, “Johnny, even if it’s not okay, you’ll be okay because you’re an emotionally strong and good young man.” 

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, May.” 

He went past and May smiled sadly at Peter, “You made nice friends.” 

Peter turned off the tap and started to dry off. “I know. I got lucky.” He dried enough to not drip and looked at his phone, “Ned and MJ are jealous of our getting Lucky. But MJ says pics or he isn’t real.” He clicked through to forward the photo from Clint.

“He’s a very nice dog,” said May.

Dry, Peter went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water, Johnny came back and took it out of his hand, “Thanks.”

“Jerk,” laughed Peter, getting another glass.

“I’m a guest,” said Johnny.

“Are you though?” asked Peter.

“Remember over a week ago when I was scared May wouldn’t like me?” asked Johnny. “Now I don’t feel like a guest at all.” 

“Aww, honey,” said May, entering the room, “I’m glad. You follow the rules, you try to watch your language, you’re nice and helpful and I don’t consider you a guest. You know where the glasses are and I don’t feel I have to offer you a drink when you come in.” She held out a bottle, “You need half of what you use with other brands. I love this stuff.”

“Thank you. The hose water without conditioner is doing something and I have a photo shoot for Teen Vogue next week.” 

“Happy to help,” she said. 

Peter got the loaf of bread and said, “I swear we’re heading to bed in just a sec. Anyone want a slice of peanut butter bread?”

“Yes, please,” said Johnny.

“No thanks, sweetie. I’m heading to bed I will see you boys in the morning. Go to bed after your snack?”

“Absolutely,” said Peter. He kissed her cheek as she leaned in, “Night.”

“Love you, sleep well,” she said.

“Love you too,” he said. 

“Night, Johnny,” she said. 

“Night, May, thanks again for the mask.”

She went up and they ate their snack. “Do we have milk?” asked Johnny. Peter nodded and took the gallon jug out as Johnny got little glasses, “You want?”

“Yes please,” said Peter, pouring when Johnny held out the glasses. “So, are they really letting you stay at the Mansion tomorrow?”

“You lived there for three months. Why is it surprising that I am staying for a sleepover?”

“I wasn’t aiming to get into Bobby’s pants,” said Peter.

“I’m not aiming to get into his pants either,” said Johnny. “The X-Men know me. I really want to date him. I’m gonna get a shovel speech but I very much doubt they’re concerned about sex. He’s sixteen and has his first boyfriend. Dan’s actions hurt me badly. And fucking Remy, of all people, talked me through some of it. He is after all the sex ed teacher. So, yeah I’m sleeping over. And no, they aren’t worried. I mean MJ slept over here and May allowed it and your crush could be seen from space and she allowed it because she knew nothing was going to happen. How do Ned and MJ not know?”

“I think MJ does and Ned is easily distracted. I got away with being Spider-Man for months by playing with LEGO and keeping him focused on video games. I’d tell him about the MJ thing if he could keep a secret.”

“MJ ‘thing’?” repeated Johnny. “Are we in an early nineties Rom Com?”

“Shut up.” Peter rinsed his glass and then Johnny followed suit. “Bobby thinks I have a crush on Kitty because sometimes I blush around her.” 

“Blushing around attractive people doesn’t mean you have a crush. It means you have eyes.”

“MJ is amazing,” said Karen through Peter’s phone. “She’s smart and interesting. Smart an interesting people are always attractive.”

They went up to bed and Johnny changed before covering his hair with the cream and pulling on his beanie. “Sorry I go to bed at ten,” said Peter.

“You gotta get up at six, bro. How the hell were you fighting crime until three thirty in the morning before?”

“With great exhaustion,” admitted Peter. “I was always tired and almost passing out in class every day.”

“It sucks that we can’t have Thai food at four in the morning anymore, but I think it’s good that May knows what you’re doing and that you got a curfew you gotta follow. It’ll be better for your future, and now that you’ve got sixty million and a toy line, you don’t ever have to worry about a real job. You can study whatever you want at school and then we can super together for the rest of our lives and never worry about rent.”

“Five years from now, we’ll be having Thai food in the middle of the night again,” promised Peter. Then he said, “Night, Johnny.”

“Night, Pete.” 

“Night, Karen.” 

In his ear, she spoke softly, “Goodnight, Peter.”

Peter slept easily but at one point he rolled funny. His leg hurt and it woke him, sparking fear. For just a moment he was scared witless. He woke thinking he was back on the boat. He gasped and jolted upright. Grabbing his leg to rub the pain away he panted, fighting to get oxygen in. Sleepily, Johnny said, “Wha? Imma wake.”

“Sorry, Johnny, go back to sleep. I just hit my leg.” 

“Get you water and the little pink pills,” said Johnny, climbing out of bed still mostly asleep.

“Johnny, you don’t gotta,” Peter started but Johnny cut him off.

Waving him off, more than half asleep, Johnny slurred as he said, “This is why I stayed over, man. Just massage your leg or whatever.” Peter did just that as Karen said soft comforting words. And when Johnny came back he seemed a little more aware of his surroundings. But then he said, “Couldn’t find water; got Gatorade. S’good for you after nightmare. Salty for sweat.”

“Thanks, Johnny. The water is in the tap. Just for future reference.” 

“Poor people. Water in my house is in the carafe. Y’good? Or you wanna talk?”

“Go to sleep, Johnny, you did good, thank you.” Johnny rolled back over and Peter swallowed his pills with several sips of Gatorade. He laid down and then said, “Johnny, roll over and hug me.”

Johnny did so without asking and Peter breathed out. “Fuck Steve Rogers,” Johnny slurred into the back of his neck.

Peter woke up slowly to the noise of his alarm. He slapped it off as Karen wished him a good morning. He liked having her in his ear. He grunted a greeting. And said, “Imma shower.” He shrugged out from under Johnny's arm.

Johnny groaned, “Mornings are too early. This is why I’m homeschooled. Wake me up when you’re done.” He rolled over, face down into the pillows.

Peter showered fast and dressed before saying, “Johnny, wake up. It’s morning time.”

Johnny blinked and said, “That shirt’s not released yet. Might as well shout, ‘I’m Spider-Man.’” Peter sighed and swapped it out for Batman. “Were we awake at, like, three?”

“You laughed at poor people for having Brita filters instead of carafes,” agreed Peter.

Johnny nodded, sitting up slowly, “Sounds like me. Y’okay?”

“I’m okay. Get up.” Johnny didn’t move. “Do you need me to jump on the bed?”

“No,” Johnny sat up. “Sorry I called you poor at three AM.”

“That’s okay, you also got me drugs and Gatorade and the hugged me so I could go back to sleep,” said Peter. “I am going downstairs: do not go back to sleep.”

“Breakfast?”

“Cereal, Pop-Tarts and fruit,” said Peter. “Yesterday was not normal.”

He went downstairs and saw May, in scrubs with coffee. “Yesterday’s scrubs?”

“Yeah, I forgot to swap them out, so I figured I would just wear them in and swap them once I’m there. I didn’t make breakfast.”

“It’s cool,” he poured himself Raisin Bran and cut a banana over it. “Surgery?”

“I’m on a kidney transplant and then an appy. We’re getting takeout tonight. You can pick.”

“Chinese,” he said. Johnny came in, still in PJs and his beanie. “You’re gonna wash your hair?”

“When I get home,” agreed Johnny. 

“Cap’n Crunch, Fruity Pebbles or Raisin Bran?” asked Peter.

“Suicide?” asked Johnny. Peter got a bowl and let Johnny make his own mix. Peter offered him a banana and Johnny grimaced. “Don’t try and healthy my cereal.”

“You’re grumpy,” said Peter. 

Johnny smiled and said, “Refresh my memory. Who got out of bed and got you the pink pills in the middle of the night?”

“Love you, Johnny,” said Peter.

“Love you too, Spidey,” agreed Johnny.

“Why did you need a narcotic painkiller in the middle of the night?” asked May.

“I hit my leg, or maybe I rolled. One second I was asleep the next I was trying not to vomit and thought I was back on the boat. I’m okay, Johnny got me drugs and calmed me down. Karen said comforting things.” 

“It’s nice being in a healthy relationship. I could tell Bobby I had to cuddle you back to sleep and he wouldn’t be threatened.”

“You have been dating him a week,” said Peter.

“Yeah but he’s perfect. You found me a good one. I’m in love,” Johnny said around his spoon. 

Peter put Pop-Tarts in the toaster and found his shoes. May put a canvas carrier bag on the table and said, “Coffee pot for Mr. Soffelus.”

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Not a problem, but I want the bag back,” she said. 

Ned and MJ turned up and Johnny smiled, “Don’t get too used to rides to school.”

“Where is the dog?” asked Ned, looking around. 

“Clint is picking us up with Lucky this afternoon. He’s wearing his visible hearing aids. Don’t make a big deal,” said Peter.

“I didn’t know he wore hearing aids,” said MJ. 

“No, they make him stand out. You notice someone with hearing aids and he’s a spy. He was tiny ones. But now that he’s not a spy so he is wearing normal ones.”

“They’re very purple,” said Johnny. 

They laughed and chatted in the car. The others got out but Peter said a few moments longer. “Say hey to Cat and Ice for me. I’ll see you tomorrow for rehab.” 

Johnny smiled, “I’ll talk to Hank and Bruce about focusing on your limp for a while. Your walking is more important than swinging.”

“I miss Spider-Man,” said Peter.

“Yeah, me too,” agreed Johnny. “But I like Peter Parker more and I want your leg to be better. I need you whole so I can have Spider-Man and Peter Parker.” 

“Thanks for last night and the night before.”

“Not a problem.”

“Talk to your family about your worries about your dad? And stop baiting Reed?”

Johnny nodded, “I will. And I’ll stop trying to protect you from my bullshit. I should have talked to you.”

“You can talk to me about anything.”

He passed Mr. Soffelus’ class on the way to homeroom. He saw Flash in the classroom but he gritted his teeth and went in. Mr. Soffelus beamed at him, “Is it our AP Physics class pet?”

Peter laughed and pulled it out saying, “Ta-da. It’s perfectly good, May just wanted one that would froth milk too and she found one she wanted for forty bucks on eBay.”

“You’re my hero. I got the class a little hand cart for the coffee machine and all our last period candy.” 

“Cool,” he gave the man the machine and filters and said, “I better get to homeroom. See you later.” He slid into his desk in class just as the teacher called his name, “Present and accounted for.” He pulled a Pop-Tart out of his backpack. He ate fast, while deleting the Karen app from his iPhone, before he and MJ left for English. 

As they sat down Flash said, “Brownnoser. The coffee pot?”

“Flash, I have literally no interest in talking to you,” said Peter. “Just stop. I don’t care about your opinion; I find your voice abrasive. And — honestly — at this point, having gone from fourth grade until now, I would be thrilled to never interact with you again. So, please, feel free to talk to your bully friends about how much of a brownnosing geek Penis Parker is — just leave me out of it.” In his ear, Karen praised him for his bravery. 

Turning to MJ he said, “I’m really excited that you get to meet Lucky tonight.”

“He’s so cute,” said MJ. “Are you liking Hamlet?”

“I’m never taking English in college,” said Peter. “I bet you’re loving it.”

“I am,” she agreed with a laugh. “I finished it.” 

Peter smiled, “Of course you did. I saw the movie with Ethan Hawk… I didn’t like that much either.”

By the time he hit AP Physics, he was exhausted from the feeling of Flash’s eyes on him. Karen had been comforting him but remained unobtrusive. Mr. Soffelus smiled at everyone, “So, Pete brought the coffee pot other people brought candy. All of this is great but we need to stay focused so when you get coffee, just quietly get coffee. We have a lot to get done. So, let’s talk about the reading.” He made coffee as he spoke and asked them questions. He opened a bag of mini Snickers and handed them to Betty at the front lab table. People answered questions and took notes. Jason got up and poured himself coffee silently. A few more people got up and got coffee silently. It was a double period and Peter had two mini Twix and a KitKat and answered questions. 

At the end of the class, Mr. Soffelus said, “Great class. I’m glad everyone can focus with snacks. Sometimes people get distracted. Monday, I want you to have another summery and the answers to the questions at the end of the first chapter. Please keep your answer to under a paragraph. Being verbose helps on the test but it doesn’t tell me whether or not you get it. As I said, I want you to see the test as beneath you because you get it. So just answer the questions in a way that shows me if you got it. And I’ll teach you from there. There are thirty-six weeks in the school year. There are four weeks of midterms and finals. We have thirty-two weeks of class, one will probably be stolen by snow days. So we have thirty-one weeks to get through twenty-two chapters — eleven per semester. That’s gonna be rough so let’s get ahead of the ball. We’ll talk about this Monday, you can ask questions, I’ll take a look at your answers and we’ll go over the junk that was unclear on Tuesday. Every Friday we’re going to have a brief quiz. That quiz isn’t actually going to count for your grade. It’s going to show me what we need to focus on. Your grades are your four big tests and your six lab papers per semester and ten percent effort and engagement. You focus on work and don’t worry about the grade.” He glanced at his watch and said, “Three minutes left.” He grabbed the coffee pot and rinsed it at one of the lab benches. “Go, my children: be free. Have a great weekend. Thank you for bringing class snacks. I’m locking them in the closet. Those belong to this class.”

Peter jumped off his lab stool and said, “Have a great weekend.” He went to his locker and traded out his books and went to the bathroom before leaving. As he left he saw that Flash was standing in front of Clint. He felt his heart sink but he saw Lucky sitting next to Clint. His exaggerated hearing picked up Clint saying, “Look, I don’t know who you are. Peter hasn’t mentioned you. But I do know who you are. You’re the kid who used to bully me for being a poor deaf carnie. So, yes, I am a friend of Peter Parker. And I’m not a superhero anymore and I’m retired from public life, so now I’m free to say: go fuck yourself and leave me — and Peter — alone.” Flash looked shocked and left fast. Then Clint saw Peter and smiled. “Look, Lucky. Look who it is.” 

Peter approached and Lucky jumped up, putting his paws on Peter’s shoulders. “Hi, Lucky, hi, good boy. It’s so nice to see you.”

“I have been showing him your picture all day and getting him primed to be excited for you,” explained Clint. “Your bully is an asshole and thinks you’re Spider-Man because you know cooler people than he does.”

“I know, he’s the worst.” Lucky nuzzled his neck. “Gosh, I love my dog.” Then he quickly amended, “Your dog.”

Clint shook his head, “No, I’m glad you call him your dog. I’m hoping he wants to stay with you forever.” 

“Hey,” said Ned.

Without looking away from Lucky, Peter said, “Clint, my oldest friend Ned. Ned, Lucky’s last owner, Clint.”

Clint laughed and reached past Peter to shake his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Ned, I’ve heard good things. And Johnny Storm loves you.” 

Lucky finished nuzzling him and went down to the ground. Peter said, “Say hi but don’t touch him until he’s okay with it.”

Ned crouched down and said, “Hi, Lucky, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” Lucky put out a paw to shake. “How polite, it’s so nice to meet you,” said Ned, shaking his paw gently. 

“He is adorable. You were not over exaggerating,” said MJ. 

“I know, right?” said Peter and then said, “MJ, Clint. Clint, MJ.” 

“Pleasure,” said Clint as he shook her hand. “I brought my van. I feel a little bit bad about getting three teens into my van but we also have a big dog and his bed which is the correct size for him. Also, I have three children and I swear I’m not a perv. Ned and MJ, you can rock, paper, scissors the passenger seat.” 

“Shotgun,” said Ned.

“Fair,” said MJ. 

They climbed into the purple van, MJ getting into the third row. Peter saw the harness on the center seat. “Here, Lucky,” he patted the seat and Lucky jumped up. Peter carefully hooked him in while taking off his booties and cape. “Good boy, Lucky.” Lucky put his head on Peter’s lap and promptly fell asleep as Clint started the van. “Such a good dog.”

“Music to my ears, Pete. Some people think he’s too big and boring. And some people don’t think he’s pretty,” said Clint.

“Why, because of battle scars and a limp?” asked Peter. “The guy who taught him how to salute gave me mine. He’s a good dog, even if he can’t play fetch.”

“He can’t play fetch?” asked MJ.

“No depth perception and blind on one side,” said Peter. “But he might like the splash pad. We hung out last night. He’s a lap dog who is unaware of the fact that he weighs over one hundred pounds. I am so excited.” Then he laughed, “He’s gonna be so confused when he comes to rehab with me tomorrow. I’ll be swinging and he’ll be napping in his cape.”

“He’s used to keeping me company on the target range. He understands that other people like exercise; he also understands that he doesn’t,” said Clint. “Am I dropping people off or are we all going to the Parkers’ house?” 

“Peter has a splash pad. It’s awesome in this heat,” said Ned. 

MJ said, “So good. We keep our swimsuits there.”

“I heard about it but I didn’t see it yesterday. How cool is it?” asked Clint. “Is it one of those in ground installed one? My wife wants one for the kids but,” he whistled, “I have a successful toy line but I don’t know if I want my kids raised like that. I didn’t have stuff like that… I mean, I did grow up to be a criminal before finding my path but,” he shrugged. “So, is it really cool?” 

Peter laughed, “It’s a tarp with a couple of sprinklers and a baby pool. It’s amazing but it cost sixty-three bucks. I have a court ordered trust fund and a toy line that’s gonna be awesome but I wasn’t raised as a rich kid. Lucky is going to be spoiled not with a sterling silver dog collar but with as many cuddles as he wants.”

“Don’t downplay it, that pergola we made out of pool noodles and duct tape is heaven,” said Ned.

“You have a yard,” said MJ. “A two bedroom house with a yard. That’s kinda rich kid.”

“You don’t share a bedroom with an irritating little brother,” said Ned. 

“Charlie driving you crazy?” asked MJ. 

“Is it college yet?” asked Ned.

Peter laughed and said, “Yeah. I have my own bedroom and a yard. I’m pretty spoiled.”

“Quick show of hands,” said Clint, “who had their leg broken by America’s golden boy, was drugged by the woman my youngest son was named after and then tortured by the organization I dedicated my life to?”

Peter raised his hand, “I think that’s me.” 

“Cool. You get your own bedroom, yard and dog,” said Clint. 

Peter laughed and said, “I had two out of the three before Steve broke my leg.” They hit a little bump and Lucky woke up, “Hey, Lucky, just a pothole.” Lucky licked his face and Peter said, “Awww, such a good dog.” Lucky put his head down and fell back to sleep. “He’s my perfect match. An exercise hungry dog would kill me. A snuggle-bud works. I’m tired and boring when I’m not Spidering. A dog that wants to eat Combos and sleep on top of me while I play Skyrim is perfect. I just have to be careful to put away my LEGO so he doesn’t swallow them and get hurt. How is your move going?”

“I am sleeping on my couch. I sold my building to my friend Kate and now I just have to clean out my fridge and have the internet shut off. If he is happy with you, I’ll put the doggie door in and move home at the end of next week.”

“Y’gonna miss New York?” asked Ned.

“My best friend, who I traveled around the world with for years, is in prison for torturing a child we both liked. At the trial, she was wearing the little arrow necklace I gave her seven years ago. I’ll miss Bruce, pizza, Lucky and Peter. I have three kids and a hot wife. I’m not gonna miss New York.”

“Did you really grow up in a circus?” asked MJ.

“Yup,” he said. 

“So what’s your favorite state?” asked MJ. “You must have been all over the place.”

“I have,” agreed Clint. “North Carolina is great; I love the weather, the ocean and the views. Georgia’s pretty but there is something malevolent about it. I think North Carolina is my favorite place to visit. I’ll take my family there, now that I’m retired.”

“Where is your home?” asked Ned. 

“Y’see, I don’t like telling people that,” said Clint. “The fewer people who know the fewer people who could be tortured into telling people where my children eat breakfast.”

“I don’t even know where you live,” said Peter.

“I’ve seen over two hundred hours of footage that show you can hold up under torture but I would rather not give someone a cause to torture you,” said Clint. “Knowing where my kids are, benefits you in no way. I never told the Avengers where my family is. Phil knew, he’s dead, Nat knows, she’s in prison for torturing you. No one else needs to know. My family lives in an idyllic location with two parents who love them. My wife got pissed that I taught my oldest how to walk on a tightrope. He was four feet off the ground, in proper footwear and I was holding his waist. The circus tricks and lifestyle weren’t the problems in my childhood. The fact that the circus was teaching me how to pull off crimes was the problem. She’s acting like tight roping is somehow a gateway to robbing a bank. My kids are gonna learn to ride a unicycle but I’m not gonna teach them any of the fire tricks I know. For one thing, my daughter has shitty hand-eye coordination.”

“She must have gotten that from her mother,” said MJ. “Are you really the world’s greatest marksmen or is that marketing?”

“I’ve never been beaten. And I’ve won the International Marksmen Competition every year I’ve entered. But there’s probably some teenage girl on a mountain in Sri Lanka who is better than me.” 

“That’s specific,” said Ned.

“Well, if I’m inventing the person who is better than me, it might as well be a girl from Sri Lanka. White guys get enough without inventing fictional ones.” 

They pulled up in front of the house and Peter said, “Look, Lucky, we’re home.” he unhooked the harness. 

Clint said, “It unsnaps. If he’s coming to rehab, you’ll need it.” 

Peter got it and said, “Does he need a leash to go from here to the door?”

“No, just make sure you are in front of him.”

Peter got out and said, “Come on, Lucky, come on!” Lucky followed him up the front steps and waited patiently as Peter unlocked the door. Clint followed him carrying a big dog bed shaped like a slice of pizza. “Dude, is everything pizza?”

“He saved my life and almost lost his for a slice of pizza. Yeah, everything is pizza. Can this go next to the couch on the left?” Peter nodded and picked up the couch, shifting it by two feet. “Glad to see you’re still strong.”

“And getting stronger all the time. Rehab has been helping a lot.” He put the dog bed in the space. Lucky climbed onto the bed and instantly passed out. “Gosh, he’s a good dog. Get a load of that dog.”

Clint grinned at him. “We gotta get his other stuff.” They made a few trips for food, bowls, brush, toys and poop bags. Putting the food bowls in the kitchen he looked out the window and said, “Is that your splash pad?”

“Yeah, a friend from the Xavier School suggested it. May was gonna buy a big blow up pool when my Xavier School stayed with us. Those are expensive but she just wanted me to be happy. She gave me my birthday present as just a special present and color change Nikes because I asked her for shoes that didn’t reek of fear sweat after being worn the whole time on the boat.”

Clint sighed, “Kid, she would do anything to make it better. She would cut off one of her limbs if it meant that you could unlive it. What did you get that was supposed to be your birthday present?”

“Y’wanna see? Instead of that, I got a bedroom makeover, a hammock, the splash pad and my friends from the Xavier School came for a two week. All added up it was birthday, Christmas and a good report card.” 

“Did you get a good report card?” asked Clint.

“I’m the only sophomore who was allowed to take an AP class.”

“You get tortured and miss weeks of school and you’re still allowed to take an AP? There’s a good reason Stark and Richards think you’re worth an internship. Show me the thing that wasn’t your birthday present.” Peter and Clint met MJ and Ned on the stairs, both in swimsuits. 

“We’re letting you two have your superbro time,” explained MJ, “see you on the splash pad.”

Peter opened the bedroom door and said, “Ta-da. The Spidey Space.”

“Wow,” said Clint looking around. “I always think that I overdo it with the purple but wow. This is baller! What an awesome room. I love it. Wow, your hammock is up there. I thought you meant one outside. This is so cool.”

“The MSF gave me tons of unreleased stuff. Did you see the tiny you with the working bow?”

“I saw the art,” said Clint. 

Peter climbed the wall to get it off the high shelf. He handed it to Clint, “So cool. The next run of Avengers toys isn’t based on them. Yours and Bruce’s are really cool and totally you. That one even has your teeth. The Widows are blonde and the Caps have their cowls molded into their faces.”

“Well, Black Widow can be blonde. She’s an idea. Natasha isn’t that hero. Can I lick the tiny arrow? I want to make the little suction cup stick to the wall.”

“Go for it,” said Peter, picking up the Asylum as Clint shot the tiny arrow. Of course, it hit perfectly and stuck to the wall.

“So awesome,” said Clint. 

Peter moved down the wall carefully and said, “This was what was supposed to be my birthday present.”

“Is that a Batman LEGO?”

“Yeah, it was good. Because my concussion was so bad I couldn’t look at screens for months and I couldn’t walk for a long time so I built this in the Xavier School library.”

Clint shook his head, “Every time I spoke to Bruce he said, ‘He’s healing, leave him be.’ I didn’t want to make you comfort me over the guilt I felt for failing to rescue you. I knew that that was exactly what would happen. You had enough to deal with without forcing you to handle my shame. Bruce was helpful, I was nothing but a guy who hadn’t helped so it was important for me to get out of the way and let the doctors fix you. This is really awesome; it’s giant and has so many moving parts.” Then something caught his eye and he said, “You actually put your organs on a shelf?”

“They belong to me, just ‘cause your friends and employers killed them doesn’t mean they aren’t mine.” Looking at his bed he said, “Do you think Lucky will sleep on my bed or does he like his bed too much?”

“He would love to sleep on your bed,” said Clint, “if it’s okay.”

“I have fewer nightmares when there is warm weight with me. The boat was cold and empty. Johnny, May or a friend or two from the Xavier school have been in my bed most of the time. It helps.”

“He’d love to be in your bed. In this totally badass room.” He flicked through his phone and held out a photo of him in all purple with a mask, “This was my costume back in the circus. SHIELD made me tone it down.”

“That’s beautiful,” said Peter. 

“Always be your true self. That’s the nice thing about your generation: earnestness in the face of adversity. Don’t let anyone tell you your color scheme is too much.”

“My color scheme is awesome, so was yours. Wear more purple now. Forget SHIELD, be a dad with a massive toy line and a purple wardrobe.” 

Clint smiled, “Yeah. Is your hearing okay? It’s just I noticed,” he tapped his ear.

“Oh, it’s a com from the Fantastics. JARVIS gave me my AI from the suit.”

“The Nanny Protocol,” Clint nodded. 

“Her name is Karen,” said Peter. “Reed put her on their cloud so now she’s with me. She agrees that Lucky is beautiful. Right now, she’s just my buddy. When I get back to swinging, she’ll be my crime fighting friend.” 

Clint nodded, “I’m glad your hearing is okay. I’m going to let you go hang out with your friends. If you and he are happy I will put in the doggy door and you’ll be good to go.” Peter showed him out downstairs. Lucky was still fast asleep and Clint said, “Don’t wake him, I’ll see him Monday.” He hugged Peter and said, “See you soon.”

Peter locked the door behind the man and went up to change. He left the back door open to let Lucky know where they were. He went down the back stairs and did a running layout and landed on his feet. 

“Ohmigod! You stuck the landing!” said MJ before hugging him. He hugged her and swung her up in a circle. 

“I shouldn’t be so happy. But I am so happy!” he laughed. Then Lucky came out. “Sorry, boy, didn’t mean to wake you. I stuck the landing.” Lucky got on the pad and started jumping about with them. They played for long enough that Peter felt tired and laid on his back. Lucky came and out his head on Peter’s chest and then went to sleep. “I love my dog, you guys.” He stayed on his back for a while. 

Standing over him and looking down, MJ said, “So, like, you have full on adult friends. I mean, I could tell that the Fantastics view you as family and that Drs. McCoy and Banner are your buddies but Clint really drove the point home. He wasn’t an adult you’re friendly with: he’s a forty-year-old man who is just your friend.” 

“You put on a mask and meet as colleagues. You talk and work together and you’re friends. We’re genuinely friends. I imagine it becomes more and more common as you get older, age becomes less meaningful. I met them as Spider-Man, hero to hero. I wasn’t a teenager; they weren’t adults we were just heroes. And now I’m getting his dog.” Lucky lifted his head and Peter stroked him, “Yes, I said dog: I’m talking about you, Luck. Good boy. I’m ready to get up and play more.” He rolled out from under Lucky and moved into a handstand before righting himself. Lucky decided to run back and forth under the arches and then climbed into the baby pool and went back to sleep.

“Damn, I was about to do that,” said MJ, “Not the sleep part, but the getting comfy in water.”

“Yeah, we might need one just for Lucky,” agreed Peter. Then he said, “Get a load of that dog.”

“Get a load,” replied MJ and Ned dutifully. 

It was a couple of hours and a few snacks later that May came home. May looked at Lucky, back in the baby pool. Peter sent a picture of him to Clint with a note, “He has claimed the pool.” 

May smiled at Lucky, “He looks happy.”

“Peter did a beautiful tumbling pass and landed on his feet,” said MJ.

“That’s awesome. Are you kids staying for dinner? We’re having, well, actually, Peter, what are we having?” 

“Chinese,” said Peter. 

“Chinese,” repeated May.

He sent the picture to Johnny with the caption, “Get a load of that dog!” 

Ned and MJ both begged off and went to change. Lucky woke up and yawned and stretched before shaking. Peter laughed as the dog splashed him. He turned off the water before drying himself and then towel drying Lucky. “I saw the drier Clint gave you. It’s pretty hardcore. You want me to get it?” asked May.

“Yes please and his brush.” Peter dried Lucky on the back steps with careful hands. Lucky licked his face, making Peter laugh. Finishing he said, “There you go: nice and dry. You want to walk MJ and Ned home? Yeah? Okay, let’s go get your cape. The ground is cool enough now that you don’t need your boots.” 

Inside, he told May where he was going and got dressed fast. When he came down his friends were dressed and Lucky was sitting erect, wearing his cape. He reminded Peter of the meme with the dog that read, “I was born ready for walkies.” 

Taking Lucky’s leash he said, “Luck, we're going out.” He stressed the last two words and Lucky saluted May. “Such a cool trick.” He headed out with his friends. Lucky took a frankly massive dump that impressed Peter. He seemed happy to be with them, bumping against their legs as they walked.

“He is a really good dog,” said Ned. 

They dropped off MJ and she crouched to say goodbye. “Your breath is gross but you’re awesome. I will see you maybe on Sunday but definitely Monday.” He bumped his head into her shoulder, “It was so nice to meet you.” 

They repeated the process with Ned and then they walked home, Peter praising him and picking up and tossing out another poop. 

“Hey, guy, hey, what kinda dog is it?” called some kids from a stoop.

“A pretty one,” said Peter.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” asked a little girl. 

“He’s a boy, Lucky,” answered Peter. 

“Can we pet him?” asked another. 

Peter shook his head, “Sorry, he’s afraid of strangers. Thank you for asking; you should always check before touching a strange dog just so you don’t get bitten the dog doesn’t get scared. Lucky doesn’t bite but he does get scared.” They walked on and Peter said, “See? Everyone knows you’re awesome.” 

In the house, he washed his hands and May said, “Food will be here in ten.”

“Awesome, how were your surgeries?” he asked. 

They talked about their days, Karen reminding Peter of some details, when he told May, and thanked her for the reminders May said, “So she’s listening all the time? Like Echo or Siri?”

“No, nothing like them at all. They’re computer programs who have canned phrases and Google built into them and they record what you’re saying for data mining. Karen is a fully formed AI who isn’t spying and has a personality. There is essentially a third human in the room who just doesn’t have a body. And Tony Stark built her but she hates him because of what he did. She’s not like them because she isn’t creepily spying. It’s like MJ or Ned is here. A lot of the time she’s quiet, like, when I’m having conversations. But, in class today she was whispering to me in class when the teacher was wrong.” Thinking he said, “Karen, would you mind if May tried you for a little while?”

“Of course, Peter, that would be fine,” said Karen, “I would hate for May to be uncomfortable around me.”

He took out the earpiece and said, “Reed probably made this to specs of my ear I didn’t even realize he had. I hope it isn’t uncomfortable.” 

She took it and put it in her ear, “Sorry, if I have offended you, Karen.” 

Peter fed Lucky when the doorbell rang, “That’s our dinner here’s yours.” Lucky ate with gusto, and Peter stroked him. “Such a good boy.” As May came back he smiled, “Get a load of that dog.”

“Such a good dog,” she agreed. They pulled out all the food and Peter dug in happily. After they ate, May said, “Season premiere of Grey’s?” 

“Yeah, let me put on PJs.” By the time he came back, May was on the couch with wine and a Coke. He sat and said, “Is he allowed on the couch?”

“Yeah, he’s a good boy,” agreed May. Lucky was sitting obediently, watching and waiting, “He can come up. When we’re here.” 

Peter patted the couch, “Lucky.” The dog jumped up, licked Peter’s cheek and then settled down. 

“Gosh, what a good dog,” said May.

They watched the absurd show together, laughing and mocking it as always. Then there was the typical emotional manipulation and a high pitched woman singing a slow cover of a rock song. May teared up, Peter teased her, Lucky rested his head in her lap. The show ended and Peter said, “It feels normal to watch that terrible show with you.”

She stroked his hair, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard. But hey: a dog, a toy line and all your nice friends hanging out together.”

Resting his head on her shoulder he said, “Yeah, could be worse.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am 2,000 words into a Thanksgiving scene where Danny and Luke turn up so there is going to be another one. 
> 
> If you have enjoyed this, please consider leaving kudos or comments!


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